I needed to return
(every so often I do)
sat on the big bed
(so called)
white sheets hiding
crisp and cold
each with its label:
"Hotel Lunel"
stroke with each object view
there is stilled
on the shelf
books Readers Circle
purchased in easy installments for Mom
table and four chairs
the TV "Superluxe"
sewing machine pedal
the refrigerator Saccol
the Wardrobe rickety
in which it is a world
and its roof
all that remained of the wreck
inside a black bag
unarmed slippers
your field team:
the brown sweater knitted two needles
with diamonds and braids
wool caps
memories of your trip to a wonderful world
where birds and fish had
where a cask wine wouldst Basque
and came back
with the hares and partridges frayed
smelling of sun and sweat
in that black bag
- a coffin of our viejosbuenostiempos -
purple ribbons with gold lettering
"Never forget"
the bronze cross that first tomb
near the only tree
five ships anchored blocks forever
calligraphy notebooks
the bag with the cards now fumble
because I'm sure you could count on some of the river
why cross the river
of what is left on the banks
of what you had to look for:
a piece yours between the hills
as I
now I need to re
to sit on this site last
and wait day is made
the book Notebooks of calligraphy, the stubborn Suri, Buenos Aires, Argentina, 2009. A. Correa.
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