(also in issue 104 of cc&d magazine, November 1998)
someone is lost
[serene otherwise]
between this emptiness
and that
each its own
he limps off
to bathe his heart
you visit him
[every martyred woman does]
no sooner no later
reaching out
until you feel drowsy
or rushed
just so
knowing no more than before
running from him
and his murderous ways
despite his seductions
stop! you say
then you go
in the distance
beyond the last withered rose
an open door
his mouth so moist
keeping the light
regretting no more
alone as always
darker than your dreams