The Mouth (LXVI: From ‘Cancionero Y Romancero De Ausencias’) Mouth that tugs at my mouth. Mouth that has tugged at me: mouth that comes from far off to illuminate me with its rays. Dawn that gives to my nights a radiance, reddened and white. Mouth inhabited by mouths: bird filled with birds. Song that flaps its wings upwards and downwards. Death reduced to kisses, dying slowly to thirst, you give the blood-stained grass two great beats of your wing. The upper lip is the sky, and the earth is the lower lip. Kiss that wheels in the darkness: kiss that comes rolling from the first cemetery to the last stars. Star that holds your mouth dumb and enclosed, until a celestial dew comes to quiver your eyelids. Kiss that moves to a future of young girls and boys, who won’t leave the streets or the fields empty. How many mouth-less mouths already buried we disinter! I drink from your mouth to them, toast them from your mouth, as many as fell: over the wine in their loving glasses. They are memories, memories, kisses distant and bitter. I sink my life in your mouth, I hear the murmurs of space, and infinity seems to have emptied itself over me. I have to return to kiss you, I have to return. I sink: I fall, descending among the centuries, towards the deep ravines, like a feverish snowfall of kisses and lovers. Mouth that unearthed the clearest dawn, with your tongue. Three words, you’ve inherited, three fires: Life, Death, Love. There they remain written on your lips.
Posted on: Sun, 23 Jun 2013 18:23:52 +0000
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