Women
by the Sea
Confused
your hair with your hair
have
the happy body to be so yours and
so
dense in full freedom.
They
throw their arms across the beach and whiteness
of
his wrists penetrates the foams.
Sharp-winged
birds pass and the curves of their
eyes
prolong the endless trail in the sky
White.
With
their mouths to the horizon, they long for
mind
the virginity of a born world.
The
tip of your fingers touches the top of
delight
and vertigo where the air ends and begins.
And
on his shoulders is a seaweed, happy to
be
so green.
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