Flowering Judas

I looked in and saw the tree,

in undulating movements,

the shadow

of the moon and the roses.

Whose perfume gives sweetness,

in the night;

the incense burning,

is the voice contained

without the touch of the flower

and the soiled air.

In the dusk,

call out to the trees,

in this breath.

I touched you once,

when the blooms broke open,

and I can remember

flowering letters,

between you and me.

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