Poetry

Living 
someone's else death? 
Was that an explicit experiment? 
 
Starting with an Adonis 
to stitch 
the wounds of angels. 
 
An unlikely 
walk through the tumor 
of breast, where 
 
no milk ejects 
the ancestory. I hold 
the words without meaning. 
 
It was a tragic 
flow of history. 
The echo was searching a sky.