Ragged Claws

(For M.) The bed, still warm, still holds on to the smell of you; your imprint on the pillow my holy Turin shroud, while you, now mirror bound, applying make-up, remind me of self-portraits by Rembrandt and Frans Hals. It is funny and quite humbling to admit that lipstick, eye-liner, mascara bring out your beauty [...]

Tengo hambre de tu boca, de tu voz, de tu pelo y por las calles voy sin nutrirme, callado, Flocks of birds drop from the sky. They cling to the branches of trees, replacing fallen leaves with song, before resuming their long journeys. (I am tree) no me sostiene el pan, el alba me desquicia, [...]