Poetry

After knowing so much 
of unknown, 
you were afraid, but I 
lunge for the relic. 
 
How far you will sink 
in the depth of cries? 
The moon will not─ 
offer her lips. 
 
Light will not give you 
the vision. A sin unrolls. 
The city burns in its─ 
own garbage. 
 
As soon as the water 
dries, eyes will blink─ 
to nail down the constellation 
in fog. The tongues retreat.