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poem for pastors

las sombras de las naves
caras hermosas, tragical
debajo de la luna de la cosecha
una vida en la onda del océano
el mirar más allá
entre el humo y la niebla de una tarde de diciembre
evidenciado en la luz tenue en sus ojos
no puedo ahora decirle
sé lo que usted va a decir
en alguna parte leí un cuento extraño, viejo, oxidado
no éramos muchos
no cuelgue ninguna guirnalda

 



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