The powerful eroticism of your feet / Gocho Versolari, poet


An ant climbs up your instep
Sometimes he stumbles, sometimes he stops
and look at the remoteness of your foot.
An ant grows when it reaches your ankle
and it becomes this anklet:
four flies
over gray velvet
of a rain
that falls on the last day of the world.
Is then
When your feet decide to stop universal suffering:
pain of heaven,
knifes in the afternoon.
Death will stop for a moment
and the flies of your anklet will fly dim,
confused with the breeze
and the background of the zenith.
At night,
you will climb barefoot my mountains
you will exceed my limits
you will be liquefied in my streams,
you will be music of my mandolins
and the twilight glass will break
when the chaos of the rain stops,
over the furious ears of the winds,
about my needy sex,
beggar of your plants;
on the devaneos and the veleidades
of the sun that beats in my underbelly
so that you step on it with the four flies
Powerful softness
of your feet




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