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poem for dad

en un viejo compartimiento se encendió suavemente
en el puerto de York nueva
en sus brazos estaba el placer inmóvil
buena mujer
ahora que me he refrescado a usted
vi con los ojos abiertos
no hay escape al lado del río
estoy viejo y oculto
porqué son las cosas que no tienen ninguna muerte
pero no puedo ahora leerle
tengo que decir buonas noches
tan perdido
debajo de mi ventana en una calle de la ciudad

 



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