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wedding poetry

dentro de este sepulcro humilde un conqueror miente
de nuestros lugares ocultados
entre el humo y la niebla de una tarde de diciembre
miré sobre el cielo glorioso
amigo, que sonrisa ha venido ser
mientras que estaba parado escuchar, discreto mudo
éste es el arsenal
no esté enojado con mí
esté en mí como los humores eternos
por las mañanas nube-grises
los hice una oferta todo el adiĂłs
soy una mujer
rompemos el cristal que vino sagrado
no hay presa yo de pensamientos pobres

 



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