I bless the time in which my eyes gazed
to such a height. The endless sugarcane
built libraries, labyrinths and mazes
under winter skies. We walked the lane
between the dim houses as she explained
the repetitions in the fabric. I flicked
a cigarette away and caught the waning
Moon just before dawn. I am the wick
that holds her flame. I examine the bricks
and spires of the churches and inhale
her smell. I bless the places that I lick
and I say: My spirit only can exhale
our love, the way I burn for you is just
unfailing. I must fly to you, I must.
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