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sad poetry

y con el pájaro del tarareo
para estos brazos blancos sobre mi cuello
me pregunto a veces si es realmente verdad
suave como la cama en la tierra
es verdad que usted dice que los dioses son más uso a usted que hadas
le cuento con
porqué lo haga
déjenos compasión los de quienes sea mejor que nosotros son
entre el humo y la niebla de una tarde de diciembre
ella era una belleza en los días
ponemos
plantemos
le detesté
arriba y abajo de él va

 



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