That the tidal bore
Of your body
Arrives until my sea,
It urges the metamorphosis
To my being.
I am clay tablet
In presence
Of your lips.
As cuneiform
Writing
My chest
Is going to accommodate
To your universe.
Every morning
I wrap
Your hardships
In the deep
Insides
Of my soul
To return them to you
As shining
Pearls.
And I know
That in the posterity
When be find
This prodigious one
Mimes' collection,
Cuneiform library,
This trunk of pearls,
Will be know that the tidal bore
Of your kisses
It shaped me a sea
Molding
To the pattern
Of your body.
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