on the silence ward
we tip-toe in
words
dressed like wounds
and fiddle with
spots
where the chin
hits the chest
repeatedly
incessantly
stretching them
wide into
smiles
over milk teeth
until tongues
lay dry
as prunes
el poema está en la vista
letras escritas en la oscuridad
no para decir
sino para brillar
en lo oscuro
giro alrededor del poema
sepultado en lo insonoro
primero escribo
la última palabra del poema
para volver a encontrar el principio
de la luz
que él había metido
en la voz
honey,
tonight I shall disappear
at 12.00 am sharp.
I shall leave behind
both my crystal shoes,
the keys to your palace,
one vague sense of disbelief
a couple of unwatched sunsets
a few piles of neatly folded silences,
the red roses you nearly bought on my birthday
and the corkscrew
which you will
most probably
need.
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