Επιμέλεια: Εύα Πετροπούλου Λιανού
Frida,
Falls the light of Coyoacán
In its empty blood
Zero listens
Where birds open thin a high blue sky
That swirls in its sadness
Longing for a wilderness
A flower must sit
In the immaculate pain
Of a vase
Turtledoves bound above your head
In every leaf, the light turns
O pain(t) of Coyoacán
In your hand
It, whispers
In wings lost inbetween
In the whitewashed walls
I have seen it
In the pillars
Of your bed
The long-tailed black swallow
Over the turbulence
A mercy ringing
Each flickering noise of a blue-rust sunset
Silently twisting
Like the ring that surrounds your finger
I will meet you
In the veins of your heart
In the ruminating wings of your eyes
And I will burn
Like an open door
Alan Patrick Traynor © Oct 30th 2023
