jueves

REPARTO SUEÑO, 1975

 


A child is


(still not an exile

not a failed bard not 

a kind of eternal castaway)


 skipping ropes at sunset

in his native home patch

 called Sueño 

 

Reparto Sueño 


a child 

collecting silver caps 

of milk bottles earthworms

 blue marbles pick-up sticks 

like coins to pay for daydreaming..


another kid in the shade

of a flowering mango tree

still expects his father

from a far-off war

like a dog mourning

its master by his grave


A red sun hangs

on the sea-scented horizon

glittering like a goldfish

in a plastic bag.






                   ©,Celia Washington, 1983

martes

HEMLOCK

 


Here I am in this garret

where no insulting light

could glimmer on

my endless guffaw


like taking a curtain call

and bowing down

to be acknowledged

by an audience of ghost-

like beauties

in broad morbidezza.


I drunk a swig of hemlock

along with the ghost of Keats 

and all of the sudden 

the blue-green waves of poetry

rushed at last into the most

beautiful words.


Oh love, stay there in the sunshine

 don't tarry long beside this gloom.