we went to that place, that
vulnerable oasis, where
lovers are nursed
and destroyed;
that march evening
coolness mesmerized by
the silence, by the pure plant,
by the bass in that song
echoed between my thighs
the poems are conceived
in my mouth, on my tongue,
my taste buds
prance around your skin
like honeybees,
your eyes seek perennial
poignancy
and dumfounded i open
myself like a rose
