(soliloquy for Heathcliff)
Wading blood from the heart now, its depth
tibia. Neither advance nor surrender,
nothing here to win or that belongs to me except to know that we will die
and wish all hold the glow phosphorescent
of that consciousness, not be alone there. Fearing
pat-hiriéndote-
that we both know,
lambs both;
afraid of your pain, your sweet shadow, fearing
enjoy the echo of my death on your body
I stop, Catherine beloved
nail me in the water of time,
I give way to the fear of crossing the desert
me and I am my heath.
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