Poetry

After tasting the homemade 
poison, the walls, 
start moving. 
The poppies are in bloom. 
I am not interested in morphine 
or codeine. A sago palm has 
come of age, preparing to 
put up the conical sex. 
A trust deficit will not know, 
the signature of veneer, of 
the gender. 
 
Something moves behind the 
bushes. I was already afraid 
of emptiness. After the violence, 
amputations and barrenness. 
The desert invades my bones. 
Cannot sleep with hands 
on my chest. Will you 
collect some runners? 
I want to raise 
the grass for the sake of commanality.