Being with you
That evening
I was the landscape
That observed
With her petrified eyes
The Lot’s wife.
Metropolis devoured
By fire,
Inflammable grass
Volatile pampas, taiga
Submerged
Among your flames.
As if were trains
In the Trans-Siberian
Steppe
A fire traveled
Throughout my back
Lasting
For several
Consecutives eternities
Of pleasure.
All in me were vertebras
Strained
Of delirium
When
The shock wave
Of your voice
It whispered
Our secret
Mantra,
That same one that murmured
The sealed lips
Of Lot’s wife.
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