Insistence
A mother laments for the end
that attacks impetuously
and you write your little poems
about the little trees and the chickadees
even if no one ever reads them
unless the wind stops blowing
and comes curiously near them
to take them to the opposite side
where even the dead orate poems
and you said —
again I shall try to transform
the cricket’s song
into a shiver
Libros Libertad 