a translated Spanish funeral poem of mine


La Ultima Canta Mexicana




She root

Hands decaying

Features separated by past and sweeter country




Reward her

Hips covered in riddles

Undiscovered junctions of her bare vineyards



She root

Scattered pieces

Fading into the sounds of bells




Poetry by Lourdes
Read 1217 times
Written on 2006-12-01 at 23:51

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