Flowers, Debris and Lost Towns

Flowers, Debris and Lost Towns

Walking again on thorny stones, naked 

feet cooling off the desire that bursts 

from the earth beneath; like little butterflies 

sketching hearts 

in the sky

and a sort of imagination setting feathers off 

onto mountain peaks

To you, now, the hand that observes 

yours 

as it slides between my fingers

down to the sides of your

sex. Or maybe us walking 

above water, whereas the realization 

there's no end 

to the distance, left alone the touch

the learning, the living

pops into my mind

As rivers fill, I must secure 

ripe fruit from drowning. Two minutes 

will be enough. To die not

i feed my hunger, holding my breath the closest 

to the memory 

and jump diving into the cold. There 

I search among flowers, debris and lost towns. But 

yours is nowhere to be found

A bird's chanting 

makes its way to the sky. Its sound 

is the trigger that shall mean both 

men and nature's rise

One day. Near.

© 2018, José Coelho