Before your mouth

Before reaching your mouth
my hands were blind fugitives,
dull sailors without
flight or retreat,
little warriors that had
not renounced to the battle anthem.
I had already touched
before the fire
stones that slept and frightened,
tangled waters with sands.
I went out desperate
to talk with the streets,
but they only told me
of fighting and disease.
I stopped to think,
and then,
I decided to seek your
lips in the abyss,
your red smile.
I did not know what to do,
I had forgotten
the soft structure of your lips.
My hands,
two lanterns searching for fire.
Drunk with love,
I held your name with broken sounds.
I confused your
breath with rain upon windows.
But then,
suddenly,
in a moment full
of stars and blood and leaves,
my hands were captured by
the whirlwind of your
mouth like feathers.
Before finding your mouth,
my hands wandered
uselessly as opaque light-searchers.
On your lips I recognized one again dew,
liberty,
torrents of pure gold,
autumn gifts.
I saw battles with flowers,
rings of purple fire.
Before your mouth,
beloved,
oh before your lips,
my hands were ignorant,
confused,
painful travellers.

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