Silence.
It's all what I am offering
facing the sacrifice stone.
A deep silence
escorting the knife and blood.
Into the warm room of my tongue
the unborn yell will be faded,
and behind the fence of my teeth
will dwell the quiescent caress
of what was never said.
The hand of the butcher will open
this flesh in vain,
and in vain will dance a moon
red of cruelties and revenges.
All will become silence.
The prayer raised before the altar
swinging by throbs.
The fist shuddering by cleavers
and stabs.
The trembling blade, greedy of hearts.
All will become silence.
And the word will beat a retreat,
into its dark verb
of torments and poisons.
