La Noche.

The drums sounds of a night
glistened with vintage flame
Sleepwalking, or am I?
Echoes of your bird name,
lilacs undone on the sidewalks.

I cannot lay and wake
but only with the Night,
Holy, buried Night,
Lakes, moons, swims, pianos, reverberate
Blurred, obscure.

The red dress I wore 
The suit you crumpled and crushed
In our forest, silent film,
Gestures tell secrets
Dreams of imaginary memories amplify,
“Off the map, where the wild things grow.”

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