Poetry

Like the xenia effect
the terror
was changing the landscape.
Will you become my eyes
in scorched run
to my god?
The sea has turned black
in holy rain. I don't ask
any numbers.


A child weeps inside
me. Hydrophobia. You cannot
go near the water. Stay
away from me. A white
cobra was coming to kiss me.
Religion has become a
toxic drink. I cannot mix my
tears with hate.

The bodies are still
coming in the water.