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Malaluna

I would like to redesign

face

the moon,

with my pain

immense

would change the

suddenly

traits

indifferent.

But

stay here,

in a state of waiting,

(under siege)

to write

and accounts payable

and then steps

infinite

stacking Cases

empty

of life and Plexiglas

yellowed.

You planted in me

without waiting for the harvest,

and waste of my being,

now

each fruit, every thought.

and die,

malaluna,

to my son every

that falls into the ground,

grapes are

already crushed

feet by now

in revolt.