Poem by Liliana Isella.

On Benedict Canyon, I get lost.
On a poisoned letter
through a naked chest
under a sunny lie.

Yellow.
The erratic road
to the ledbetter of my memories.

Valentine’s Day.
The key is forever close
and your gate is never coming.

Crimson smiles to soften your iced feel.
The dinner crumbles on the velvet altar
as the candle runs out of its last breath.

Under your porch, I light one.
The deaf wind of your absence
dances the miserable trail
of this famed curse.

Benedict, rock this end
in a dreamy cradle of bitterness
sips from needles through incurable veins
to end a river of stolen violets.

Bless this slumber
on the holy birthday of violence
dying leaves between silks of sacrilege
in a worn-out bed of scarlet photographs.

Waits to be forgiven
agonies to be buried
white flowers falling from blue shutters
into the last night of fire
of my breaking shiny mirrors.

Poem by Liliana Isella.

Photo: Elisa Rebeca Bridges.