Pulpo

“Ace Of Wands
Scissors in a cross
An invisible heart
is distressed, see it?
A heart reflected on the wind.”

—“Incantation”, Poem of the Deep Song, Gabriel Garcia Lorca

The still wave,
pulpo of ice, storm reef,
stolen elephante forms
an apprehensive crash.

Emily said, “A word that
breathes distinctly
has not the power to die.”
The ether of each ovary ember,

lost in the wine of night.
I could juxtapose jurors, virgins
and my twisted tongue

and remain a lamp
that witnessed the stabbing:

“Como tembalaba el farolito de la calle!”

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