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mother daughter poem

dice de buenas viejas épocas
nunca en toda mi vida
era muchas y mucho hace un año
poca puerta fue alcanzada en el último
todos se callan a lo largo del potomac
un poeta, tomando el frenillo de su lengüeta
caras hermosas, tragical
qué nosotros ahora hará
cuando, lleno de amor caliente e impaciente
una sombra gris fina en el borde del pensamiento
noche misteriosa
rosas y oro
para mirar todo el dia la onda azul encresparse y romperse

 



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