why would you come?
what do you think you can do here?
dark shadows battle in the mirrors
the walls are red
the laughter’s a bright yellow
wax candles waltz into my tears
a silver coin rotates on my dark table
the Spanish chest is filled with photographs
there is no room on my bookshelves
for other loves
bring the sweetness of kisses stolen in dark alleys
the snow in ghastly cemeteries is too high
the spleen of those who’ve never known what love is
(souls fly the sky when children play with kites)
the gnostic knowledge of the ones who died
your poems breathing solitude and myrrh
the untranslated birth of shooting stars
i see the stars
are you already here?
image: ROMAN NOGIN/Shutterstock