lunes, 2 de junio de 2014


At my mother-in-law's,
At the inland,
At the heart of Entre Ríos,
They both lie in a bed.

At 3PM, summertime,
Nobody dares to step outside
To face the boiling heat.

So they sleep and dream
A diurnal exercise of night,
A refresh I can't bother to take.

I watch
And I watch,

A mere essence of light
That Passes the drapes
To barely illuminate
And leave the heat outside.

Upstairs lies Mauro
After being medicated
From a continous cough.

I now sit at the bottom of
The staircase.
One that divides life
From lives,
Dream from dreams,
Wishes that flies much
Beyond the heated zinc.

I sit, speechless,
To Write this poem on an Iphone,
Flirting between
Loving-ness and technology
As a desperate fate.

Do I have the right to watch?
Do I have the right to be
Should I take the luxury
Of not sleeping a siesta?

I am the man of mens, I think,
Ailing and avoiding disturbance.

I bear no ressonance,
No noise,
Except of ventilators woozing
Back and forth and back again,
Continuously like a mantra.

I'm the guardian of dreamt shadows,
Swallowing saliva,
Chanting mental hums,
Savouring the taste of emptiness,

For a while,

Until Mauro wakes up his sore throat,
Or Lucio in hunger for his mother,
In my mother-in-law's
I'll be free from all duties.

                                                                       Rosario del Tala, 01/11/13

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