by tracy k smith from life on mars
is god being or pure force? the wind
or what commands it? when our lives slow
and we can hold all that we love, it sprawls
in our laps like a gangly doll. when the storm
kicks up and nothing is ours, we go chasing
after all we're certain to lose, so alive --
faces radiant with panic.
rápidas manos frías/ retiran una a una/las vendas de la sombra/abro los ojos/ todavía/ estoy vivo/en el centro/ de una herida todavía fresca ~*madrugada* por octavio paz
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