An apology fell
In my right palm
like a stone:
Because I live,
that`s why...
She sobbed drunk.

A tick dissolves in my left chamber,
It`s a snake`s tongue on a circle,
subscribed to the ideas of stone.
It falls and it rises and it struggles.

It puts up my tear
in my right eye
under the eyelid
slow and easy,
to keep it there
closed and afraid.

As a snake calling
an Eve to an apple,
the tear is allured by a poem
listened with the left ear
with shots of treatment.
and the tear becomes...

There, in the poem, time sleeps
In the rhymes` embrace
like a child in a warm blanket
with the lips towards the air.
The tear dissolves
in a lullaby
in a whispered spell
from the left ear
to the right ear
in a mad commutation
of senses
of apologies
of rhythms
of sensations.

and I
am
on the hill of hopes
by the fountain
that waters life
with the serum of
safety sensations,
waiting
my turn,
for the right to an angel.