Curdle

Pass by

Your milky   texture

Curdles in this sun

It seems we can   never

Merge or   separate

Maybe it’s a   question

Of   desperation

At a point in   time

But no, not   dreams

Fold up

Your   observations

Slipstreams

Your dark complexion

Curdles under   pressure

Lets hope that we never

Meet or evaporate

If I plant the   suggestion

Of disintegration

At a place and time

Though only in   dreams we

Fold into

Your milk

And curdle in deep freeze