Thursday, July 24, 2008

Little Mountains

I am a spinal column entering heaven's garden
The calm captain of your enchanted flight

Your fingers, little mountains of right and wrong
disrupt those very thoughts of you,
thoughts where I now find myself already lost

Your mouth moves unceasingly,
giving birth to those perfect syllables
which rest on your tongue before taking leave of your lips.

Your lips,
my mouth,
a dream emerging from
a tempestuous idea which becomes fixed in this
eternal yes that embroiders the summit of those little mountains

I am a spinal cord leaving heaven's garden
distressed from a flight which has abandoned me on these filthy staircases which separate us

This antidote which you've become

Your mouth ceases to move in mine
Between my thighs, between my sadness

This eternal yes,
this spinal column,
those little mountains of good.

Sussy Santana
Translated by Steven Tegu

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