Blossoms of Saguaro

Before your hands
I were but state of substance,
thin cactus needles
carving the cellular core
that poured suffering
into the circulation of blood
(not yours)
and after the tenderness
in the blossoms on the top of Saguaro,
where I woke up
burning with fever,
swimming in sweat
and delirious
near the sun,
where you branded me
with sheer promises from one love,
which wrote them with tongue
over my body,
before to escape of radiation.
And then –
the pain of thorns
on which I descend
for too long
down from the heaven,
my entire life
which detonated in your eyes,
and fear in the wings of a bird,
frightened without light
and without blossoms of Saguaro,
whose fruits to spread through the desert.
Before you
and then –
does it matter
in an excessively long

©Ivet Aleksandrova


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