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teen love poem

oscuro-eyed
los cielos que eran ashen y sobrio
hermano, soy fuego
un poeta, tomando el frenillo de su lengüeta
en un viejo compartimiento se encendió suavemente
flor blanca de la espuma, flor roja de la llama
cuál deseo comentar
es usted despierto?
todavía su gris oscila la torre sobre el mar
algunos de los daños que usted ha curado
para estos brazos blancos sobre mi cuello
escuche
sé no dónde

 



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