I WOULD LIKE TO LOOK AT THE SKY
I would like to look at the sky, but the stars
open my blood and disturb
the verses on the mouths of the dead:
tonight my mother will not participate
to the breaking of the bread, she will not allow
neither laughs nor prayers, she will turn
all the names down and override them;
tonight my father will not remember
all the times he guessed right, all the times
the word cut his word off.
Tonight I will take a needle to sew
my eyes on my mother’s eyes,
a little knife to empty
my bones into my father’s bones.
I would like to look at the sky, but the stars
I’ve got them in my teeth and they hurt.
AUTUMN
For some time now the leaves have been uncertain,
the sky doesn’t sink
into their dark veins, where the tangled blood
turns down and falls.
This morning a rounding sparrow sang,
announcing the catastrophe.