terça-feira, setembro 21

changing rooms

The lights in the city
dress me up
though I keep moving (ahead) naked
without the warmth of your hands.
So far
everything is excessive
and I can’t say the peace anymore
- I can’t say your name anymore -
without rubbing my eyes in wilderness.
So disquiet
Can remembrances be
(I think)
I know your face by heart
as I know my way home.
- Home -
is massive
between your fingers
your two hands in firmness,
your two arms in desire.
Above my pillow
(without you)
all is unfitted
and all is tawdriness.