Puerile

I come across an empty picture
or my brother’s pale face?
What did I lose, between there?

I am turning, I see the dark pit.
an ant’s eye
a dead fruit
stains the earth

Bittersweetness
playing on my smile, widening it.
An ill night, sucking on the corner of the blanket,
I see the roof bends warm over me.

The rain comes, cold and silver.
Death will come, it will mow its ground,
it will build a ramp to you.

In my fort of hay, I killed a serpent
I placed the body on the hill
and rolled it into the stream.

I had nothing left but
a funny face on