SEASON OF ANTIPATHY
Antipathy spreads like a plague
opposing passion
enemy of compassion.
The animals which tamed me
— I loved all of them —
now creep like serpents
fixated as if preying
with goggling eyes
and they send me a message
that what is alive
isn’t always the best
and what dies
isn’t always despair.
Men with
provocative pants
fabric stretched with imaginative
intention
men almost unshaven
with their cunning glances
disguised into animal fervour
that spread thickly
on white bed-sheets
they sink
in the moldy waters of memory
leaving behind them
not a shred of compassion
nor a bit of awe
for their conquests.
And women the so called friends
with whom I knit the web of life
and we laughed with each
crooked passing of the needle
and our confidential secrets
were told by our shining lips
we, who felt deep in our viscera
the importance of our existence
on earth
even when the one would just
close the door behind him,
we became the bored ladies,
the stressed, manic housewives
or with desperate movements
just to catch the last train
of fame.
But the most distaste you feel
for the one
who feels all these
as if he was a superior being
as if he had wings
and flew over the dead
over ambitions and thrash
as if he was
your own self
less useless and disliked.
Libros Libertad 