Fingerprints
linger along the lines of the eyes
a photograph.
While I get lost in your eyes after death
immortalized him feel alive in my eyes as if to
give voice to my voice,
to want to feed the flood of memories of my
river. Forgive me if I talk
dipping the tip of my
feather in the ink of my tears transparent
but I feel the wind
barrel in the throes of a hurricane
only think of you and I was left alone to communicate this way
with you not to feel like a glider
crazy in a vacuum free fall into the abyss
myself.
And while life runs up to
crazy credits
just stay here in this room
with the curtains drawn and the shutters down
clutching a picture I look like a slow
close to your sweet glance
to dissolve
the stalactites of my eyes.
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