Ocean’s March
Tomorrow we’ll uproot the crosses
of the sea cemetery
to engrave children’s boats
and to incise in headstones
small statues of beauty and of the sea
to fill the deserted house
to beguile life and ourselves
in spite of the negative god
under the blessing of God
The masts vanished
the smoke had sunk
behind the voiceless contour of water
that resembles the knee of a mother asleep
and the voyage vigilant in our breasts
vigilant like the wind and the sea
in winter’s dusk
Soft hills travel
in the mist
and the sick sun is sleepy
on the moist stones of evening
The storks high up
in a triangle of repentance
A small lonely prayer book
under the evening rain
the Saint Nickolas cenotaph by the shore
where Autumn stops
to throw a coin of bitterness in and a yellow leaf
while the roar of rough sea distances the misted sandy beach
to the teary starlight of silent September
Gather the azure marbles
from childish days with games and cries
to carve the ocean’s statue
bloodying hands in the cloudy afternoon
where the pale reflection of pelagos
writes a circle of sunlit guilt
high up in the vacant air
Libros Libertad 