Tecelã de Sonhos - Poesia D'água

Then You See - Said the Fly, Devouring

somnolent i stood still
as if a tempest hold in time,
before the thunder hits the sky
by the hands of longing zeus.
was it a dream or a vision?

- feverish enough to be both. how lovely!

the linen is blood-stained,
it could have been the dahlia!

- but doesn't the dahlia bleed milk?

she does, the milkiest, made from pearls!

- you hold no dahlia, and you stand in no garden. are you alright, missy?

oh...no garden? i feel intoxicated, light....where am i? am i dreaming?

- ...are you?

[the nightgown is dripping red]

it could have been the wine, spilled from a glass...

- but do you drink?

not at all, but i do wish to drink!

- that grape-filled wine? it is bittersweet.

too much sweet spoils the fun, bittersweetness as a gentle reminder of pleasure and sin!

- i wouldn't know, i exist to eat...

oh, the dress is now scarlet-colored

- so as the thick puddle, at your bare feet.

is it blood? it is!

- certainly, don't you feel weak?

i do, what is this malady?

- does the Night seem suspiciously beautiful today?

indeed, and so every other Night, shrouded in mystery.

- then you see

i do?

- your heart, it is bleeding
it is?

- you bit a piece of it

i did? i did!

then you see - said the fly, devouring.