The Room
Perhaps you expected me
to talk to you about my love
yet the hail that fell on the roofs
resembled the boots of recruits
who run to the morning call.
There was, I remember, a loose thread
in my socks which we both looked
with a bored glance.
That silent understanding of ours
which annulled the arbitrary and unforeseen
worked up to our separation.
However, the wounds that opened later
we never suspected that time
when our glances met
in the old mirror over the sink
while you applied your face powder
and I was tying my tie.
Libros Libertad 