your poem

how does one read

the petals of a flower?

is it enough to learn

the whispers of a june cloud

as it pulls itself away,

racing across an evening sky?

or study the traces of the sun

left in your eyes

after a long and lazy morning?

the lines of your heart

are not easy to untangle

their edges are tinged

with melancholy

the letters are primes

divisible only by themselves, and one

and when they move

it's like an oak tree on a hill

dancing with a summer breeze

when i met you

i stopped glancing

over my shoulder

there were no shadows

chasing after me anymore

the only place to look

was in the palms of your hands

and holding your fingers

became the dance of life

i stood at the top

of the highest rock

i could find

facing westward

and i saw your face

as big as life

with that smile

that never tires of me

you called to me

and i knew

you were not being selfish

when i jumped

you embraced me

and before i hit the water

way before

i was already with you

i was not gone