Ode to your naked walk / Gocho Versolari, poet


You approach slowly.
the butterflies of twilight flutter,
that live ten minutes
and in agony they sing
and they sing
until that the poison of heaven
finishes inoculating herself in their throats.
You walk barefoot and naked
for the bridge that we built
with prayers
with stares loaded with bread
leaping towards the sun.
You stop. The rain begins. You smile
Sadness is a little monster
with the biggest head
than feet;
a misshapen child looking at us
from the corner of the room.
Rest your head on my chest.
Tell me a story
and another;
where your nakedness galloped dragons
and she went up to heaven at the end of the night
to raise the dawn,
for the sun to impregnate you
like now
when the slowness of our skin
drag salt snakes
between the stars.




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