THE GATE
Excerpt XVII
Lost things come from afar carrying underarm
a small bag with two knots. It’s hard to begin, he says.
I don’t start, the other says, I continue; I know the difficulty
I have a flashlight in my pocket, I connect the house light
to the street’s;
the one who wears a cap has a deep around his hair;
he enters the café Saturday evening
the newspapers have been read, one of them is ripped
eyes stare at the back of the chair; higher, behind the glass
window display, is the trap of the aged chocolates.
Ah, old women
the coffee reader and the passing magician were right. That
blind man
held his hat on his knees all his life, he never wore it;
his ears froze there at the stairway of the subway,
dirty, ravaged hat, full of finger stains, slowly
filling with loose change, half a drachma coins,
two drachmas, the hidden one hundred drachma bills
even a thousand drachmas.
Libros Libertad 