Earth, I got your message – a downfall,
your sap, bitter in my throat,
the clear song of your cruelty.
I expect no miracle,
I came only to kiss the dirt.
You dressed me in white cotton
and carmine lipstick
filled my mouth with words unknown.
Named me yes. Called me yes.
Sexualized me, like death
or spring,
untill I lay in the sun
dissolving ‘love’ into ‘lust’.

Now let me tell you about the drunkenness.
I ended drunk on your blue-misted nights,
drunk on nicotine-colored dawns
and prayers diluted in air,
drunk on the grey call of city birds.
Beasts, here, make sounds we can’t utter
only when children die,
only in asylums.
Music plays for what does not exist
or whatever is trying to.
Every interior is red.
No desire untrue.

I left my body in the hands of time
saw it bloom under cherry trees,
found it naked in bathtubs a tint too red,
what remained of light
caught into thin blades.
Earth, I chewed your flanks
the day I felt utterly emptied,
lying down with my fingers inside you,
you inside me.
I tasted the ground,
the real ground-thing.
Love surged out of it
like a white bulb,
I rubbed it in the sun,
– there was nothing else to see.

He,
he came with daybreak
from the East,
hips swaying, lips like wine,
when I think of it
he must have been the man.
We stayed in your grip
among dirty glasses and ashtrays,
an unmade bed for only home,
we dreamt you’d leave us there,
uncombed.
Earth, I expect no miracle,
what happens here happens
in a shot.
In your veins, I know,
there is enough fire to kill us both.

So let me sit here
with bare things,
this coffee cup, this table,
this lighter, things
in themselves.
Being his,
life fluttering
between my thighs.

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