NEW ::: POETRY Apr. 2015 | Page 34

Here we are again, pale sleepwalkers consumed by the same flame, after such a long time prisoners in this house by the cemetery. ART INTERPRETATION: There is a game in a nude house. A game to win souls. Skin filled with blemishes persecutes, the abyss aspires to be luminary, through the stairs of abandoned dummies... The Angel prays to the lamp... please don't fade! Old girl, you ate my tongue, my fingers, my hands. Your trained crows smashed my eardrums, gouged out my eyes, left me goblined*. “The ferret, it runs, it runs”**, [:::] Aquí estamos de nuevo, pálidos sonámbulos consumidos por la misma flama, después de tanto tiempo prisioneros en esta casa junto al cementerio. Niña vieja, me comiste la lengua, los dedos, las manos. Tus cuervos amaestrados me destrozaron los tímpanos, me sacaron los ojos, me dejaron imbunchado. “Corre el anillo por un portillo”,