Out of Place
They stay motionless, almost sad, they can’t get
angry, can’t feel sad for the others. They remember
a small balcony, the acacias held up with their hands
up high. They remember the fishbowl with the faraway
city. One theatre company had returned. The exhausted
and unsuccessful actors were sitting on their suitcases
under the trees.
The sets and the clothes closet had been confiscated. And
now, with what costumes can they perform, without red
curtains and paper forests, without the Lions Gate, when
besides the off-by-heart learned words or their own
they have recognized that same shadow for the ones who
had played with big success the death, and for the others
who had played with equal success the immortality?
On the floor, the wooden knife remains covered with
the golden chocolate wrapping paper.
Libros Libertad 