2016-04-23


Cell
--Pura López-Colomé 
You insist
on moving mountains
under the mantle
and to the skirts
of an opacity
not surmountable
by equivocation,
by which no one appears,
by which the magnolia offers itself
and also gives off
so much scent that
padlocks of pores and eyelids
are opened
and something peculiar
comes clear,
a howl,
a blaze
behind the screen.


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