At the end of another decade a new exile
will be lying -obsessive yet humble-
Putting an edge on the morning consolations,
a compulsive enmity, woken once more,
under the somber and sober eyelids
feeding their longing stare
in no direction.
our regrets only:
our cheeks and mouths covered up
unable to rationalize the whispering drafts,
the autobiographical tenacity of a misfortunate shelf
always in between,
its noble denial scars -its space,
rented to old, overshadowed masks
turning down reconciliation offers
from sculptures in disguise
from prodigal martyrs.
What a ridiculous bloom of anticipation
Since the truth never abandons your guilty eyes!