Epoxy Bonds
Amaya López-Carromero
Turned sides until I lost my soul
Washed my own contour
Into the perfect foreign glow
Had my ends divided
All dirty and swollen up
We became the beggars
Of crowded thoughts and perfect speech
Dragged my ink stained limbs
Across the white canvas of guilt
Following lies I found I different truth
Under the same sky Over the ocean’s indigo slab
And without words she whispered
I will hold your hand, as you held mine
In the forest and the stone hall
And your chest will glow
And the entrails of the animals
And the grass below your feet
Will curl around your naked toes
And you will sing about it all when I am gone
Givers of grace