when it’s too hot at night

the moon slides
through our fingers like an old and rusty coin
oxidized by dreams and by the sour scent of saliva mixed
with the stingy one of the sweat –
we weave our touches like a rope with which
the sandman
could hang himself from the beams of heavens
and our eyes hurt
stab us behind our seconds with pathetic and blunt edges
and we don’t know when exactly the light reddens goldens
whitens melts
rounds in a circle
profound and mild
of a summer morning’s beginning –
on my skin
your skin is just
another dream
and the knot of the rope of scents is always cut
by the same treacherous blade
of distance

© 2016 Liliana Negoi

originally written in Romanian

Comments
One Response to “when it’s too hot at night”
  1. Moneyogi says:

    exquisite imagery , your metaphors are a divine treat for a reader’s eyes ….Wow is the word

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