Day 2

Finale

Matilde, years or days
sleeping, feverish,
here or there,
gazing off,
twisting my spine,
bleeding true blood,
perhaps I awaken
or am lost, sleeping:
hospital beds, foreign windows,
white uniforms of the silent walkers,
the clumsiness of feet.

And then, these journeys
and my sea of renewal:
your head on the pillow,
your hands floating
in the light, in my light,
over my earth.

It was beautiful to live
when you lived!

The world is bluer and of the earth
at night, when I sleep
enormous, within your small hands.

- Pablo Neruda, 1973


- - -

You cannot stand in this doorway nor return to that room

Once the waters part
The waters only
Vaguely remember the water
Naked as our mother
Before she knew
She was

- tony