Impalpable
but tangible like the hand of a shipyard, of an umbrella salesman, leaves every so often on the pendulous bone of
my ribs
the pure gold body of pure clay of
a wolf snail, I go to school and teach,
I buy bread, meat,
I caress my daughter's shoulder and the mollusk
slides leaving on the bony spine of
my waist a grave river of Saturn's slime,
thus lighting up blue stars in my
kidneys, Martian pigeons in the gray quota
of the lungs, the vertigo of the thousand
cells that never fall silent in the
universe,
sometimes one of its little antennae brushes my flesh
then I tremble with mystery,
and I shiver like a
spider web on the moon.