Heroes
Fledgling heroes’ bright eyes
and shoeless feet splash
in a fountain
champions yet to be honored
why else?
Who haven’t managed to explode
their hatred in front of throngs
on tv monitors in tears and mourners: nothing
moves as slow as history
in this parched world
that thirsts for rain and green olive
leaves
day’s aspirations
birth red from terror’s eyelids
and you said There is
nothing here for us Only death
A yellow death desiring glory
Libros Libertad 