Somewhat immodestly,
Reticence is a bourgeois affectation anyway,
I studied the cypresses and olive groves dried,
To exhibit the canvass of desire,
On afternoons, a cup,
And in the nights of belonging, a snore
Accompanied, me.
Deserved a mention,
A sign of a registered letter,
A name said, to be called.
And care unfettered, yet.
