• Seneca Basoalto


The blood of old idioms climb my suffering like ivy / feral words that slide from my mouth sound just like you, impersonating the vernacular of your curiosity which trigger how forcefully you squeeze your fingertips into my fossilized knees / you whispered my thighs once belonged to Proserpina

I flee from your dirty hair, damp walls that study the humidity in our individual breaths,

You monopolize the air, you pervade everything / a child's mouth, the last dusting of an Olympic wave / a divergent rhododendron, the pain in my voice / love, in sallow hands and hurricanes, Pluto occupies everything, with touch, with fever & flush / without boundary or inhibition

If there was more of me to find, you hunted it down to reverb into my soul, to use as pillows,

In one night - you saw the moon tumble from my waist into the hours of nocturnal waters, you slipped in thru the sea, in silence / you hush each caustic cry pushing one mouth to another     naked, of your permanent pride / naked, in blue vein & eye / you never left me, but smeared the syllables of every timeline until it was just / you & me

Beasts of current, fed off the constellations, you left nothing behind.

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