Wet
Mirror
fogo fome fonte fisted
bowl water ,walls ,dri
pping ,yr jaw jut aim
,th
e whizzzing sleeevesss
)layered on the gate my
,watch swirling ,I was
,chewing a splinter spoon
a ,rungs burning on my
chäiïr )smoky
lens be
fore my mouth’s )wet
green stone )the cave’s
fog spewed.... )sw
itch yr neck off )dr
ink ,nothing’s
left((((((((( l
...boquitas pintadas.
- Cuco Sánchez
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