The murmur of your voice
pulsates,
breathes in water.
Outside your body,
the herbs have stopped your heart,
slowly entering into
your lungs.
One silent drop of rain
shatters the membranes
of this dream.
You listen how it grows
in peace,
it moves around the center
of the world.
You'll soon be dead.
You press your lips
against the liquid
memories,
sipping day omega
from the moon's
breasts.