I will die of broken midnight
For Cesar Vallejo
I will die of broken midnight
when a sallow moon pulls the neap tide of light
from my telluric side.
I will die ready for breakage,
a cracked cup or mug or teapot
cracked with stains of words.
I will die of pulpit and conflictions
the swelling of convictions
compounded with an overactive doubt.
They will bury me under words
spoken by strangers
bearing putrid dichotomies.
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