You should stray from what I invent:
small clouds of sisal,
waves without sea, salt and tragedy.
this is me without lipstick,.

nothing is true:
nor the reverse of the moment,
neither the dizziness in this plot,
or even the gift of a spasm.

a dream supports the body,
and I defend myself from
the almost spoken words
while afflicted,
I seek your voice in my skin.

these are rarities
and ambition.
these things are hoarse rhymes
of your heart.

but tomorrow
only fever and
a quiet and brief space
because nothing should last longer
than a newborn poem.

karla bardanza

Copyright©Karla Bardanza 2014 Photobucket

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