if you don't let me go
I am a kite
that flies to the extreme
of your gaze:
a piece of longing
attached to your dreams
for an emotion.
Down the street in the background
where the river passes must be God
if it is where there is nothing,
not even certainties
that serve as a wall
so that the wind does not sink their knives in the night.
It should be where the
that flee to free solitude,
where nobody screams orgasms
nor the names
nor the uncertainties.
Between the blind wells
that sink
without noise or grace.
Where there is the smell of tarpon
until it arrives
the storm
and all the fires are put out.
And someone calls you, God,
Because fear sometimes has your name