Silver Trails

By the moon
I drink you again.
The night is trembling;
ruffles the colossal tears.

The terrible ache of the
illegitimate mercy. I am
not accepting any poem
half-dead under my pen.

The invisible force, bribing
the tears was a grace
uncalled for. I am going to forget
the date of my cessation.

It was a false peace of the womb.
There was no banality
in sending the message.
Death has no other name.