Last night
I invited the Truth to my room
But it was the Devil who came
he held my hand in his-
calloused and scaly
as sleep and sobriety
were quick to abandon me
“Ambitiouss Artisst…”
hissed he
paint me with a poem
paint me-
properly
no pen nor ink had I
so with a silver feather
He cut me
lovingly
And thus with a scarlet song I sing
Until God comes
Or his angels do
I sing of Satan
I sing of you
tonight
I Wait
for You
as I always do
especially in summers such as this
scorching summers
that scream sweat and sex
and yet
You never come
even when You do
and so
tonight
I made love
to the Dark
thick and throbbing until
it shattered
into a thousand drops
each one a stolen kiss from heaven
wetting me
Whetting me
in summers such as this
scorching summers
that wither both weeds and willows
one can forget
that even the soul can get parched.
[Cordero, May 2008]
