In the labyrinth of her body
In
the labyrinth of her body, her heart was a big cave full of echoes.
Every
dawn, a sea of bats came back from the night.
The
wind ran across her lungs.
Sometimes
soft wind and caress, sometimes tornado and explosion, almost always lullaby
and rocking.
The
river of her veins was a labyrinth of mute currents pulsating a primitive
rhythm.
Some
days, red turmoils are formed here and there.
A
cavern of sharp crystals is found in the basin of her liver.
A
river of bile sometimes runs through: hate, rancor and remorse.
Lost
in an idea, twisted and climbed cerebral circumvolutions.
It
flew over her thoughts: it was mist, electric impulse and shinning.
A
sea of fiber and meat was shaking and expanding.
Waves
in the heart go up and down along with the guts and the bones.
Lean
muscle and movement.
Made
of silk and electric current, her skin is a map of scars, sensations, pleasure
and air.
It
is a mirror and a constellation of freckles.
Silence
and spark, the web of nerves is switched on and off endlessly.
If
we ever shine it is because of their light, if they are switched off darkness
arrives.
Full
of mineral and time they are our history.
They
speak about our movement: they will be the dust when once we are gone.
