1.
My love,
listen
the bombs
make it hard to hear
the honey of your voice
the burning flesh
quashes
the aroma of our flowers
Listen,
my love.
We can't bury ourselves
in each other's melodious panting
with the whining threat of jets overhead
My heart
trembles
for you,
the bombs rattle
the land,
our bodies
go up
in a mushroom cloud
is it ecstasy or extermination
why are we not
inside each other?
Invadidos
When I talked
they said
I growled
When I wrote
they said
nonsense
When I left them
they called me
traitor
When they called me back
they found out
they had to follow me.
They turned
my land
upside
down
and came to the conclusion
that I was lost.
Now I am free.
3.
Cuántas bombas
han lanzado
cuántas afganís
han molido
cuántos dioses
han perdido
sus creyentes
a manos
de sus creídos?
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