< the skull

TO MY MOTHER
============
2026-04-28

Like the flowers of a sylvan tree
Shed their petals on the furrow that gave life
To its fruitless branches,
Oh my sweet mother, onto your breast
Allow that from this pale
Corolla of my fantasies
I too shed the cold, scentless,
Flowers of my existence, wilted flowers
Whose dew is only weeping!


< the skull