Cold Ground

for Aunt Claudia

It takes a few years to know the heart of a man
grandmother said many times:
We know his body quickly and the beat of his
words faster.

We meander among silences and actions, lust that
blinds our clear thinking to meet, in the best of cases,
when we least expect it.

The body as well words, so foolish package of lies.
Should we choose voluntary mutism before
speaking to each other?

The earth will continue
to gyrate in the dark room and new tic-tocks
will mark the renewal of time.

With hypocritical dead posture a heart sleeps in
the ground. We are doomed to repeat.

Printed from Cerise Press:

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