Leaking Forms, A Past


Ximena Keogh Serrano

There, there in the shadowy figurines of pastness
thrills of communion emerge,
cut through the stiff crevices of time
to reveal things—
                                 The self that no longer is
           a matter of hunger and dream.
                                 The languid disaster of memory
           slicing the nude canvas.
                                 The delicate tremors
           still pulsing through bone.

A pause to observe
                                           The selves becoming
                                                                  loose desires


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