what’s going on

here Vallejo?

by Roberto Lavidez

what’s going on

here, in this

son of man?

the city shouts

and in the hall

of the Louvre

a child cries

in terror

at the sight

of the portrait

of another child

my mother

turns up

the collar

of my

overcoat

not because

it is beginning

to snow

but so

it begin

to snow

today

on one cheek

north

and on

one cheek

east

came out

of the poor

neighbor

of the wind

today

a splinter

has gotten

into her

the word

of man

free from

adjectives

and adverbs

which

woman

declines

in her unique

female case

even among

the thousand

voices

of the

Sistine

Chapel!

I look at

the hungry

man’s pain

and see that

this hunger is

so far away

from my

suffering

that were

I fast unto

death

at least

a blade

of grass

would always

sprout from

my tomb

let there

be milk

in blood

let a candle

be added

to the sun

eight hundred

to twenty

let eternity

pass under

bridges

the steps

have left

the kisses

the pardons

the crimes

what continues

in the house

are the foot

the lips

the eyes

the heart

confidence

in wickedness

not in the

wicked

in the glass

but never

in the liquor

in the corpse

not in the

man and

in yourself

alone

in yourself

alone

in yourself

alone

the low point

of my life

hasn’t

happened

yet

I will die in

Paris in a

downpour

a day which

I can already

remember

©robertolavidez2015