my palms have gone

in the wide world

to learn your body

(the face without the blinking's outline

lowering the round peaks of shoulders

in arms,

the breasts forgotten in throb

the archingof thigs in hunger

fallen in the knees of pray

rebelling deep in ankles.

in heel's conceit

everything flows...)

and when it was

to denounce you to the soul

although he knew about you

for a long time

i was dipping in unreached spaces

to my fingers amazing

stammering.

dislexical, my fingers have read you

here and there.