She makes big steps to an inner forest skirt
Where he throws acacia whispers in her hair
the last sea-sun reflexes over the sea - levitating
through phreatic waters of a lunar smile

she embraces me with a long indulgent look
together with the flowers, books and hairpins on the table
persistently one can smell in her a conscious sleep
secreted by the glands that bloom beneath her skin

making her utterly intangible as if wrapped
in an inner light streaming around her
her mornings are irrigated by a vegetal music
gestures of shadows stroke caress the outlines known
only by her

and the memories are running towards the future
with a force that shakes the impossible out
from roots
her epidermal happiness heals among us
the indifference of the day, ugliness, resentments

but I spy her at every door
and absorb the new smell of her clothes
and block her hands’ trajectory to pick at random
caresses of a poor friendship
an immense compassion
and now she moves away along the shore
I leak out from under her soles as the ebb tide does
the blaze of a secret
metamorphosis
my woman
in love , but not with me…

In englezã de Olga Dunca