We don’t have to share a fate,we don’t have to draw shameful conclusions.After the shutter releases,I want you in the multiple,in the glacial carriage,in the snake cloister,in the closet fullof guitars and stomped hay,in the exhalation of others,all swaying with love, but changing midwaythrough the wordsI address to you, my handpressed to yours visiblymuch palerthan before, an orchidoffered beneath a warring sky,an orchid that yawnsand cracks open and falls apartunexpected in a bed of soft clothes,where your shoulders became two steps,dawns fruits rivers and knives,full glottal, wide lensand your hands became two countries,and my legs murmured like grass,a dumb love,a tether to all dreams of enduring,long convoy between two powerskilling the mockery of wordswhile daylight floats,orchids, white dogs stretched out between the slow-burning lanterns.