Poetry

In the exodus of emotions 
I try to flee human fears 
in earth hour. 
 
The sky will not be civil to me. 
You had become a dark flame 
like port wine. 
 
Who was changing 
the skin like a snake? 
I was busy cupping a hemangioma 
 
on the face of a moon. 
Tucked between the breasts 
a dream fumbles with a cyclone. 
 
One more city dies 
in my head. The streets 
are walking back.