SHAPE OF ABSENCE XXVI
Summer passed almost four or five streets away from
the house;
bicycles and carriages perhaps went down to
the shore
and perhaps the yellow papers in the display windows
of the stores faded
under the strong sunshine. We didn’t notice. The ships
and the trains had the same whistle. No sound.
The rain started and stopped next to the house; it encircled
the house in a friendly and calm way; the window panes
steamed up. And then,
from the outside not from inside, the small finger of a child,
alone and a bit sad,
sketched on the window a weightless heart, an anchor,
a circle.
Among these, the only sunlit designs, we saw again
the day passing outside slowly, stooped and wet,
carrying the glassy columns of rain on its shoulders
in order to build
a small, sad chapel on the edge of fairy tales
and years.
Libros Libertad 