Lemon, I speak of lemons
my mouth is lemons
my tongue is lemons, enamoured,
my lips its seeds
my voice its sweetness
every syllable a punctuation of
a large bridge in a cold incessant universe
and yet i speak by my solitude
conversing by its chosen conversations
finding only myself sitting aloud on a chair
with my dog sleeping silently on my feet
both of us across my hammock that is empty.
And useless. Sleep is useless
Again I open my mouth to speak. I revealed your name
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