Even
long after my death
Long
after your death
I
want to torture you.
I
want the thought of me
To
coil around your body like a serpent of fire
Without
burning you.
I
want to see you lost, asphyxiated, wander
In
the murky haze
Woven
by my desires.
For
you, I want long sleepless nights
Filled
by the roaring tom-tom of storms
Far
away, invisible, unknown.
Then,
I want the nostalgia of my presence
To
paralyze you.
María
Martins (to Marcel Duchamp) c.1945
