174 I am a worm corrupting pages of your memory, Displayed on ivory desks in your body. I mess The meaning of your nights, the spelling of your days. Your leap Between two poles, I have made you unsure of your place. A virus, I mutate your thoughts and change your needs, until You are afraid of yourself: a cocoon, you grow up And hide a stranger in your flesh, with dusty wings, who will Collect the parts of your tenderness split in the dusk In eyes and hands you did not want to keep. I am a mine Concealed below your intentions; a danger despite The iron structure of your rules. I'm a guerilla spy. I am a thief you invited, who wants all your parts.


Confined Verse
Collected Poems