I should put on a mask
and a shield I should put upon my chest
I should put in my eyes the look
that I once looked with,
not the remote and outside world
and the vault of the warm womb
under which I would curdle like the pearl
is curdling inside the shell of the world
From the outside in
I’d get as my food the maternal blood
oh, it alone does not belong to me,
oh, it alone does not belong
neither to her, nor to the one that gave her birth in pains
this food is interrupted
and rhythmic like that step, the one for dance.
An intimate protocol is this dance
in honor of the celestial body.
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