Desaparecidos
The wolf descended on the sheep,
expecting terror and whimpering,
not an old man with a ladle
inviting him in.
Seeing the surprise on his guest's face
the old one asked:
"Is mess hall food so good
that you can resist home cooking?"
The predator feasted
on spicy soup
and fresh bread rolls
before taking his hosts
At the doorway the old man said
"Winter is here,"
and offered his captor a sweater
The sheep are gone now
But the wolf wears their wool
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Pulse
Should I hide
like a Jekyl
Until my sundried bones
write their signature
in the sand?
Or should I wait
until the heavy reign
of light
drowns our last illusion?
I reach
for the lampstand
A finger on your pulse
A finger on the trigger
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