Clouds

Ernesto Trejo

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At dawn
they are
huge peaches
on the bare trees
All day
they act
like the lost
or else
they approach us
asking
At night
they relflect
something like smoke
in the heart
that confuses
a pistol
for an eye
Later
exhausted
they rest
like us
waiting
for the moment
of parting
like eyelids

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