Before the devil got in me,
I spread my dreams through nature’s smile.
But now time runs like cold bath water.
Even the face of a familiar stranger
causes clawing night winds
to crack my young skin
letting the desert dryness lick through the privacy of my soul.
Jealousy breathes from my skeleton like perfume.
My eyes confess the guilt of lonely old men.
But even though bones dance in the parched sky,
I still hold my mystery like a poker hand.
©Gianina Portfolio, 2001