Swallowing the Afternoon a Spider Bite Overtakes My Leg
Muscles steeped in the sounds
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
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.