““Sleeping Wrestler You are a murderer No you are not, but really a wrestler Either way it's just the same For from the ring of your entangled body Clean as leather, lustful as a lily Will nail me down On your stout neck like a column, like a pillar of tendons The thoughtful forehead (In fact, it's thinking nothing) When the forehead slowly moves and closes the heavy eyelids Inside, a dark forest awakens A forest of red parrots Seven almonds and grape leaves At the end of the forest a vine Covers the house where two boys Lie in each others arms: I'm one of them, you the other In the house, melancholy and terrible anxiety Outside the keyhole, a sunset Dyed with the blood of the beautiful bullfighter Escamillo Scorched by the sunset, headlong, headfirst Falling, falling, a gymnast If you're going to open your eyes, nows the time, wrestler””
