BY CARLOS MIJARES POYER, OCT. 13, 2020. CARACAS, VENEZUELA
BRITTLE
The Ice of the Sun,
on your back.
The river of trees speak
the fleas, yes, the fleas
call out death in life
and the soliloquy of the working-class stars
announces
the atrocious circumstances
of the circumstances
call of the last screaming sigh
life in one day;
and the swirl of the eye chiaroscuro
heard palpitating legs
like the color of oranges
of those dressed girls
in deceased ivory
to tell a regrettable fable in English
initiated the breaking of the drop
upon high brow and forehead distilled
and the rupture of the twin soul
hunched back and standing.
(c)copyright CARLOS MIJARES POYER, 2020.
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.
TODOS LOS DERECHOS RESERVADOS.
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