sands

from my honeycombs flows wild
the late hour tenderly redolent –
neons flickering with doubt search for my shadow
among cheap cloths and glasses with imported wine
reminding me of Cairo and of the tile-coloured ruins
where our words had acid echoes.
do you remember?
back then we had velvet veins and bitter gazes,
we used to draw each other letters with henna
on the back of our palms and on our shoulders and on our thighs
and then we grimly tried to dissect the taste of our skin
blossoming under horizontal words.
nights spun on our lips like almond carousels
and days hung – glassy bracelets –
on the broken joints of walls.
you looked at me through the sandy haze
and your whispers danced like cobras at the base of my neck.
in those moments i strove against oxygen and sounds –
and you smiled…
what you didn’t know though was that in this time
my flesh learnt you by heart
and my dunes wrapping your silence became
perfect casts for your unspoken anger,
and it would be enough now for my fingers,
smeared with honey and cinnamon,
to slowly dip in the soft folds of the evening
in order to rediscover your traces
on me,
in me.
you see, darling, this is what truly is
archeology.
 
 
© 2014 Liliana Negoi
 
originally written in Romanian

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