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HER
ANSWER
Para sobrevivirme te forjé como un arma.1
Pablo Neruda
Male
body. Hot.
Your chest is a precipice
eagled
above me and losing its control.
I
suck you into my lethal, common thighs.
Gored,
so you think. I do it for
our child.
Poor,
emptied one, you are denatured now.
No
eyrie, just a slope for frightened eyes.
You
try to be eternal, making of me
wailing
laments to olé your fears away.
When
such fears will not die you darling me,
your
eyes horizoned, your voice so agonised.
What
can we do with you to give you back
your
horn unbroken, the sand but no young rival?
There
now, we are whole again. Do
you like that?
Make
of me what you will. I am sorry if
you
sweat and stifle, thirsting to live forever,
and
can’t, my darling, see we already do.
Alan
Marshfield
1‘To outlive myself I forged you as a
weapon.’ (back)
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