The Copal Was Burning

The copal was burning

She took a glance away from me

with those eyes full of earthquake and ocean

two moons that fetishised in innocence and awe

Her words glistened in the awakening air of a late yellow morning

Those trees, she said, they’re dancing

I wonder whose song they’re dancing to

the wind

or ours?

Somewhere south, Portugal // 23”04”18


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