Progress
When the house is finished, the noise will end.
People will move to the house with their furniture
their electric vacuums, and fridges. One match and
a small copper wheel will be left in the elevator.
The uninvolved mirror will fill up to the top, and
the hat of the tall diplomat will float at its depth.
Success is always temporary, he said, and the failure
permanent. The kids secretly draw crosses, horses,
and chickens on the hallway walls; some women argue
on the terrace among the wet, light-blue, red clothes.
The caretaker slowly loses his hearing and his voice; he
grabs the flies off the windowpanes, kindly puts them
in the glass tube, and observes them for hours along
with his young nephew during the noon hours. Then
he grabs them again, counts them. One is missing —
the one that lies serenely in the glass with the milk.
Libros Libertad 