Two Poems

•

The Fence

At a certain moment
after having left the house
you thought that you had forgotten something
an object
something unknown
and that it was necessary to turn back

a certain time
while in the middle of childhood games and joy
a word took you by surprise
and you turned your eyes elsewhere in search of it

then with undeniable fear
a voice surprised you while you spoke
another one
simply another
and when the night offered itself to you
vast and traversable
you became aware how
between the dust and the city
poetry was building us a fence

•

Definition of Waiting

I write about days
I write on its leopard back
accidents that don't take place
names of objects like
eyes of women gazing at the blind afternoon
nights that trace the empty ring in our souls
bland days
ash between fingers
as fragile as
the glass of a voice
holes
immense holes in the pages and in what is said
days drawn by the absence in which we sleep
writing

waiting