Morning Song
once
I asked why
the tragic
and timid virgin
called Pulcheria,
the day before
her wedding
was mopping carefully
the whole house
and she died
next day?
Since
she cleaned and tidied
everything
why didn’t she
enjoyed
the long white
lace
the exquisite white frills
and the colourful
huge wedding
feathers?
Why
she silently placed
the big yellow butterfly
and the paper flowers
that were inside
her head
on the planks?
And the stuffed
caged bird
of her breasts?
Why?
Because,
my father perhaps said,
the soldier must have
his cigarette
the baby
his cradle
and the poet
his mushrooms
because
the soldier must have
his plothe young boy
his grave
and the poet
his rattle
because
the soldier must have
his adze
the young boy
his glace
and the poet
his plane
Libros Libertad 