DeathI know what I must do
from time to time: ignite the world,
or shut everything out, say it’s over,
I don’t even know the sun,
I don’t remember being born.
But I don’t have the courage
and wait for the storm’s ringworm to go by
and for my blood to run
like a drowsy river once again
getting lost in life’s sky.
The bitch, I’d like to open her eyelids,
for years I’ve waited
for her to slip or forget
to catch her in a misstep
and, at the right time,
put it up hers. Hell!
just when you feel
you understand her and know her as love’s sister
she spurts out blackness, seems
a frightened cuttlefish and shuts her eyes.
I have set traps everywhere
to catch her unprepared, at least