El Techo

Lala Cruz

I visit a house under construction that’s not mine

what is mine:
a thick craving

gazing into him like a skylight that’s not mine
imaging how it would be to wake up under there

climb up on the roof my love
gaze hard at the new moon
born and unborn fusing
any one of those unborn will arrive in the born
so convinced of having been here before
my sorrowed out senses know it too.

I have to get used to this empty house
under construction
that’s not mine.

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