Foul perfume of fear,
my face as lowly wine,
harvest yesterday.
He removes me,
a good counselor.
I know he is clean,
correct,
painful.
His name means success,
In an absent language.
In his cell phone is my stultified image,
another woman
in a lightning world
with no sign
of beauty.
My face is a window.
You see me
standing naked in my heart.
Miniature Moon 