In Memory of Your Body

In Memory of Your Body

(…)

6.
Your body has narrow slits instead of windows. And inside, your brain turns around, silent. The more mouth you have the more pleasure. Your eyes look like stables, look like dungeon, though they are hard and white, of course, as your legs. Nor are those legs without ornament: Two chains of great size and rotundity keep you prisoner. Loitering on the beach, one common night, they were recognized and stopped. In another corner of your body, a fountain spouts. Then, there are your breasts, which, carved in stone, would be thought wonderful for miles. Everything around appearing a little abstract! I loved you, so I carved your hands small and perfectly clean. They must not be forgotten. And here I beg permission to close a chapter of still life.

(PD: 15)