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sex poem

una niebla conducĂ­a abajo
mi alma va revestida en cosas magnĂ­ficas
los he oĂ­do en la noche
la agonĂ­a del tener demasiada energĂ­a
flor blanca de la espuma, flor roja de la llama
mi madre me trenza las rosas mojadas con rocĂ­o
el pasar a través de las paredes amontonadas y feas
una sombra gris fina en el borde del pensamiento
mi madre me enseñó que cada noche

 



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