PUBLIC GARDEN
It’s that terrible enlargement and deformation
of a body that has been left alone. At the same time
try to understand
deformation like a foreign shape that belongs to you.
It always happens like that.
Your arms grow bigger in the spring; the moon follows
you;
further down a harmonica is heard with the thorns
of its sound; an insect
unravels a silvery thread along the length of the road.
Slowly, slowly and inexplicably. Unarmed soldiers stay
in the forest; they forget to come out; they take off
their boots; they rest their heels among the blades of grass.
Their rifles lean on tree trunks, they grow roots and bloom;
Bullets hang among the flowers like children bells. When
the horn calls them they realize they have lost their rifles
they see their boots leaving on their own at the edge
of the forest and their thick, frayed pants hanging from
the branches. They can’t return.
They stay like that, half-dressed, in the forest and the grass
and the clover which start growing on their skin.
Libros Libertad 