Tears from the ankle of an iceberg fell on my body.
They crust on my skin like cold wax on a rack of votive candles.
Seconds hurt like lonely Sundays.
I lie in bed.
A canopy of wild roses scents the air.
My dreams burn like your body used to burn in our nights of love.
I feel you.
The pupils of my eyes dilate under the gravity of time.
Mercury and Venus turn the wheels of love.
Crusts of wax melt on the silky sheets.
Your kisses bloom violet waterlilies on my skin.
I taste figs and wild forest.
The wing of an egret covers us.
The room moves on another parallel.
Is it morning?
Is it Sunday?
Where are you?