II.
she said
I’m going to talk to you quite openly
and she
apologised for her vulgarity
is there a way onward
Juana
by Gamboa
the western cordillero
a patch of vomit
made up of the lights
of Bogotá
cupped in the hands
of a thousand digits
figures of bone
walk the western
horizon
still recognisable
moving without acknowledgement
you are watching
relations of yours
I ask
you trap me in fucking
you trap me
we shut up
we know
the identity
we need to show
indifference to
