Moon dust is falling
in melodious rhythm. Again
I remember you intensely.
An immaculate pain
spreads the white shroud. You
walk on it leaving red footprints.
Why I think, not to
think, amended by your tears
before you reached god.
God, I will not repeat
the sin, the crime to test the fidelity
of sun. he burns you to ash.
Ah! the poverty of words
cannot ask cobra to spread
the hood. I want to sleep under.