Displacement
I don’t know anything – he says – nothing anymore I move
in almost roomy spaces without echoes
with no question or answer Distant lighting –
perhaps a hidden spotlight projecting in the air
or on a white non-existent wall slow gestures
by hovering strings grimaces of nothing pulleys
two leaves one Monday one ring
I move between events of the unexplainable I feel
almost explained I hold my breath I strike
the knocker of the ancient garden The servant comes out
He secretly gives me the chain I place it on my neck
under a yellow shirt I don’t salute I leave
Libros Libertad 