Uncalled and unchained
one day you had to notice
the slice of her gore orbit;
a ring so-called invisible,
yet obvious to the blind.
We chained thousands of billions
of inextricable events;
the eon after eons whitened scalp
no wisdom ever bordered
with impure dictated knowledge
of quasars, pulsars, dwarfs...
Almost a planet that, if ever existed,
would be drained already.
The planet and its satellite!
Dancing, dwelling, quelling
in non reciprocal conciliation
but mutual rearrangement:
innocuous separating diameter,
both agreeing to not touch.
But the day comes when the tongue
leans to learn to smell her womb,
unleash a licking bridge to agony
-the two that die to become one-,
an ending song that happens once,
for once in my light
and devils' weightless taste:
I am so sorry, dear,
I had to eat you suddenly.
Here we are for the first time
(and we meet again so tender),
no ice nor rocks, but hydrogen;
little pouring fusing waltz,
blending eras, wounds meteorized,
our craters caged back to the core,
in a non-poisonous constellation,
no myths sustained to be adored
under the arguments of a cliché,
love stories, wars and animals.
If we had to die to be reborn again,
I had to eat you now.
Hanzel Lacayo (2013) ©
Fotografía: "A landscape" (2006) ©
