Wilfredo

from above i know you saw
what my hands are capable of doing

in front of the hospital,
a fistfight out of pretentious rumbles.

language of war
sabotaged my silence — trickled,
pried my squalid mouth
with jibing
        lips

once upon the nascent
   stance of night
(that is
  over the libidinal moon: i have my
way with colored forget)

   a dog walked this Earth
hunting for something — the drunk
    applaud of night swings the ides
  into an endless dance

    you turn in your grave like
  the replicate of an oncoming wave,
   bringing the ocean closer
   to the burning
   of my
    
          mouth, wordless —