I
you walk away
                                    tears
                                                strand of hair

a ring
            and a key
II
from the wound on your teacup
            oozes
                       three eyelashes
                       and my question
                       etched
                       on whispers
III
along las ramblas
                                                                                            une voiture passe

                                      inside your café
            laughs are stored

at night
                       a tango
                                      my handkerchief
                                                             over your eyes
IV
                                      he caresses the lesion
                                                                       on your cheek

                       you turn away

            his fingers blacken
the milk
                                      on your tongue
V
as we dug into the earth
                                                                                            le général shot him

                                                                       his right eye
                       gleamed in the mud
VI
ancelcry
mauves
the wind

watervoices

today
la seine violated
your breath
VII
                                                                                               (for chris swanson)

                       fingertears
                                       don't keep the man

                                                                       widewater
                                                             come
                                                             sing

            in my teacup
                                                                                            your yesterdaylaugh
VIII
                       one word
                                                                       changed

here
            my circumsizedeye
                                                                                  there
                                                                                            your fingerangst

                                                in the stillness
IX
                                                                       the almond carcass
                                                                                            of a swallow
                                      floating on our tongue

            just above

                       the sighstone
                                            of gesternsgrabe
e-mail the poet at Steveiglesias@aol.com
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