Saturday, May 16, 2009



In the tomb, lingers
merely a phantom,
dissipated; mature
breezes of wisdom
carry what was
by divers delicate fissures
through densest marble;
naught endures.
From love, built
to withstand the elements,
yet piedra... under over-
bearing pressure relents.
Ruthless winds pounded
walls within, without;
once invincible walls
weaken, waver with doubt.
A crease--
one crooked, thin line appears,
a tiny, treacherous
trickle through piedra tears.
Marble cracked, unrepaired,
grows unstable;
vulnerable, weak...
further fractures, inevitable.
Unyielding,
enfeebling, afflicting gale,
unrepentant attacks
the fortress frail.
Creases become crevices, slender though deep,
through which
La Cuerpa slipped, vanished,
never to be contained.



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