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trap me
in the rhythms of the Flamenco
whose sounds invade the nights of Southern Spain
to breathe the notes of the guitars which play
and fill the lustrous eyes with burning pain

trap me
in the Florence of my dreams
to walk with Leonardo in its streets
to cry with the Madonna and to verse in Greek
when the last word of Christ forever speaks

trap me …

fragment from the poem trap me [included in my book Passions: Love Poems and Other Writings]

you can pre-order my book here

Thank you.

Gabriela

@short-prose-fiction (Gabriela Marie Milton)

image: Everett-Art; Shutterstock; [link]

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