100 Only one drop of you -- it is still falling Down through my vocal cords to reach the roots of voice, Making me feel its substance not dissolving, Slowing my flow of veins and tying them in words -- Down through the eyeholes of my sacred temples, Through the convulsive arches of my hungry mouth, Breaking the hymen of my hidden shelters, Slowly transforming me and making me its part -- Inch after inch, and second after second, Falling inside the twilight of my empty caves, Leaving behind its silent fall -- the echo, Throwing behind its changeless shape -- The growing shade.


Confined Verse
Collected Poems