Monday, October 24, 2011

In the eyes of the deer

That night
The cup was the last cup
In a shelf of ebony
A deer on the rim
Someone put it there
I never wondered why
I poured in some water
Slowly to not wet its fur
I led the cup to my mouth
With my lips touching fine porcelain
As if they were kissing winter
The water turned to snow and I 
Melted in the eyes of the deer