I can't think of any other way
to continue on the warpath
than to take shelter in your arms
practicing the body to the ground...
and camouflage myself with your flesh
in his most uncivil passion
to face the pack
when he escapes from the fold.
I can't think of any other way
to continue in the trench
with a kiss from a rifle...
I can't think of any other way
to continue I don't know where...
than to go after the smoke that indicates
the fire that your body hides
to find the fleeting light,
of some April lightning
that a chiaroscuro reveals to me,
a silhouette, some profile.
I don't know I can think of another way
to overcome eternal doubt
than to submit to the finite truth
of your naked skin,
more powerful than the tyranny
of any reptile
perched in the trash
of his ivory tower...

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