by maggie nelson, from shiner
dragging around some miserable wife
on a real hike, straight up a cliff
of corn, holding onto silk husks
for dear life -- it's a little odd
to vacation as your mistress, and as
the only one licensed to drive, but
no one seems to mind. a little
disturbed but making it through
swelling up before noon, i dreamt
my abalone ring came apart
live fish and shell peeled off
my finger, in a retail store
of which you were the owner.
this day smells like toast.
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
