san rafael inferno
Those nights I consumed your memory
bubbling up
and bitter.
On the table you left fuel for doubt
so that in the heat
my thoughts would burn revolutions
(to the ground)
inside this new shell
for months.
Red moon, spinning quicker
choreographing revelations-
arachnids only want a home;
and I would have glowed for you
under the strangest blue light.
2018.