The sylvan lover
Fumes of burning sweat decaying
centers their destiny in the unequivocal compassion of a bird,
slow innocence, olive-tree kiss, warm body versus another body laying down.
Eternal love of the skin roaring from the inside,
passion in the voice, precipitation of words in a cascade or kiss,
sweet animal, immense profundity which never stops, which ever
has captured the agony of a tongue.
And, in a world among two – a man, a woman –,
in the extraordinary battle fought between sexes
only one winner can remain, one loser.
The flesh is weak:
but the fire is immortal,
fire or impure ash which justifies everything,
the fire and the sword with a body in its silhouette
sharp, as an open fruit shedding its juice.
Kissing without love, without fear, without hope,
wanting victory and loss, rising, falling,
destroying the pulse while plunging to the abyss of the silent scream
that every throat sends when the last ecstasy intensifies.
And then walk away, return each one to the same jungle they came from.
The loneliness will enthuse desire to grow anew within
and soon the lovers will come back, sylvan, to ignore themselves.