Poetry

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.