Photo-Grams Of Naivety. Poem by Sara Iglesias

The smell of almond trees,
makes an incisive cut,
purging deep into the flesh,
a surgical case of angst,
photo grams of naivety, shattered and gone,
in the coldness of a November night.

A procession for those I once was,
in a polished wooden casket above,
with the jubilee of fresh times,
A floral bouquet of lilies, infatuated by charm
I decide to rejoice under the stars.

Savouring memories and words,
whom I belonged,
Mock-up of failed tries,
Pierces like a hammer hitting a nail,
In an altar to my regrets,
Its rooftop, dismembered covering
Sneaks in the petrichor of raindrops.

Lead bullet weighting my swallowing,
Awaiting for the grenade that inhabits within,
To blow up a target line to be destroyed
A centre for visceral catastrophe
The fields of change are ploughed,
welcoming crops to blossom and fill.