Gacela of the Terrible Presence
I want the water reft from its bed,
I want the wind left without valleys.
I want the night left with no eyes
and my heart without the flower of gold.
And the oxen to speak with great leaves
and the earthworm to perish of shadow.
And the teeth of the skull to glisten
and the yellows to overflow the silk.
I can see the duel of the wounded night
writhing in battle with noon.
I resist a setting of green venom
and the broken arches where time suffers.
But do not show me your immaculate nude
like a black cactus open in the reeds.
Leave me in an anguish of dark planets,
but do not show me your cool waist.