Day 1

Ella

A crescent of orange and peel

all shadowed by the days before yesterday

your heart

the orange blossom

falling viscid pollen

Noche

Midnight full

with a wine moon

the golds of harvest cling

to the ends of your tangled hair

Crumbled as rust;

The men that see

your face

so fragile and stone set

Sabanas Rojas

In cotton sheets

you quench stars and

ignite skies

to burn a Phoenix

with your hip,

your lip,

your tongue

Sudor

How they drink you

as to absinthe

quiet and overwhelmed poison

building your silhouette

searing their minds.

Fog Settles in your eyes

your skin is earth

your eyes are sky

taunting decaying streets.

When all have left

your bed your walls

still burn

ripe oranges.