Swallowing the Afternoon a Spider Bite Overtakes My Leg



Muscles steeped in the sounds
of us.

The ball called sun is falling, so sallow, so full—

In the courtyard, the ribbons and knots of
Red, and the tiny eruptions of seedlings;
entrenched, my penchant for swallowing
renews.

I pursue you.
I recall the heaving of your pecho:
Leaving me, leaving me.
Tepid breaths break off.
Concrete has fractured underneath their fall.
Little pieces, little deaths.