I've seen in the tide of this inland sea
fact months
daily on the moon in your eyes,
solar heat in your arms
tracing the wound on the skin
constellations that feeds your shoulders
full of melanin,
rest of my hands ...
I've seen in the slope of thy womb,
in the liquid crystal
of short tears, in the fiery
Palor of eternal thighs like snow ...
The stars just ordered the rhythm of things,
have memory and signs of what was and is.
Let the fanfare of their orbits,
leaves your skin with its mandate.
* Original untitled Hector Murena, Argentina (1923-1975)
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