When can we indisputably see one poisoned mollusk in the dissipated sea?
Thin water under a hazy sky is responsible for turning my lips and eyelids into the color of aged whine.
I was dubbed the yellow butterfly, as are the rest of those who are killed on a translucent day.
I have woken up the bay of a dead man's blistered memory. Let us put these misleading hopes and fictitious chances to sleep.
Take away their kerosene lanterns. They are cemented in their own secrets.
Comb the sable hair and close the murky eyes.
This will be our best kept secret that is fed from salty tongues with a straight face and crusty eyelashes.
This will be our yellow butterfly. There should be another way.
But I'm the yellow butterfly. They won't take me away from me.Dry the body, hide the hate, calm the bay with a blanket of sleep.
As the wind penetrates the wounds, I think of the smoke stained walls that all came tumbling down.
