you said it's not so much what I write
always the same poem
a thousand times over done
doing and doing

a lump of clay taken from the river
kneaded many times
the ductile fingers model
small variations
intonations
to find the figure
the body

a bit of cumin
your hands caressing me
modifying me
imperceptibly in the night
the redundant sheets

you should try my bone marrow
you will have to break my bones
before bringing the end of the tube closer
your lips

but don't stop dancing
even my obvious tears
don't stop