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Pulling the Moon


I've never made love to a man.
I've never made love to a man but I imagine.


          I imagine pulling the moon.
          I imagine pulling the moon out of his brow.


Pulling the moon out of his brow and eating it again.


          Eating and pulling his hair in silence.
A kind of silence when the moon goes out.


When the moon goes back and forth between us.


A kind of silence lit for only a moment.
Seeing for a moment through the eyes of the horse.


          Through the eyes of the dead horse
          that burns slower than my hair.


My hair that burns the moon off.
My hair with a hand inside it.


Marcelo Hernandez Castillo

Cenzontle
BOA Editions


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