they look like pastillas de leche – captivating sweet
candies on a buffet table, tempting the diner to skip
entrée – those milky spots at the base of your nape
perhaps they are even sweeter than my lola’s version
encrusted by sugar crystals – they are best suckled
before sleeping
or stared at together with those pulsating veins
at the left side of your forehead gathering tense skin
that throb like a stone being burst by a hot spring as
your eyes race through pages of text – they are
the best parts to caress
or stroked circularly towards those eyebrows that often
betray your concealed emotions – loosely knit, they
can tickle stray fingertips sketching verses down your
eyelids and let loose a charge of swift, reverent kisses
climbing down your Iberian nose bridge
it’s the best lullaby – the soft grunt you make when
you exhale through your nose, perhaps it’s the sound
the sun makes when it emits fire at the center of the
universe,...
