107 I slept with September. I conceived you from blue In the lascivious shaky embraces of boughs, Dropping the red and the yellow of my clothes on the ground -- My tenderness darker than the secrets of roots -- Forgetting my face within the eyes of the wind, Losing my names in the murmuring lips of the leaves, Falling apart form my body and lower than sleep, Not knowing whose mouth is blindly touching my skin. But when in December I awoke from the dark, Naked and pregnant with you in the court of new snow, I was defending myself from the charge with one word -- That no one is you, and only you are the one.







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IRENE CĂSAR
Confined Verse
Collected Poems

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