by Gabriel Moreno
I often wondered,
Long before the fall,
In what shape,
In what godless form
I'd find you?
Framing the promenade,
Coiled around my father's leg,
In the calvacade of fire.
Which one of your limbs
Bulwarks the abyss?
Do you contour the walls?
Are the moon shadows
Polaroids of your fears?
Would I need to sing
To the wombs of your eyes?
Would they simply awake?
Open to me as before,
Unfold the hope,
Our feverish child
Of soil and blood.
I often wondered,
Would I even talk?
Would you think me insane
To resort to hell,
To cave the cards
For another hand?
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