CLIMBING A MAST

The roller creeks. Immobile.
No matter how much you pull, it will not budge.
You have to think, is the rope in a knot?
Twist the pole with all your strength,
all of it.
Watch it phlegmatically
ignore you and your efforts.
Think again, maybe it’s not apathetic.
Maybe it’s not you but it.
Maybe it is a bad time and it’s trapped in something.
Look up- not a clichéd expression
telling you to brighten up-
literally, look up.
Steel cables are wrapped around the pole constricting it,
constraining it. Of course it cannot move.

Now there is no choice. You have to climb the mast.
Walk towards it. Do not fear the fall,
see yourself on the mast, be one with the mast
-or just start climbing the damn thing.
Be careful though. Slowly
shift your weight from one foothold onto the other.
Many have climbed it before.
You might think it is safe because of it.
But, then again,
not everybody weighs the same
and some footholds rust with time.
Reach the top, give yourself a pat on the back.
Actually, probably a bad idea. Hold on.
Instead, finish what you started.
Loosen the pole from its entrapment.
Unwind the steel cables and climb back down.

ME HE CURADO DE TI

Me he curado de ti,
de tus ojos de niña,
de tu rostro, tus piernas suaves,
de la manera que me mirabas en los ojos,
tu sonrisa que me dejaba sin aire,
que me consumía como las olas consumen
lentamente un ancantilado.
Como un río devora las montañas.
Pero mi amada, amor, amiga, corazón,
el río se secó. Solo quedó una anécdota

Ya no veo tu cara entre las masas,
ni entre los reflejos de este mundo
o del mundo de los sueños.
Ya no oigo tu voz en el viento,
ni huelo tu perfume cuando camino por la calle.
Antes quizás, sí. Ya no, mi conocida.
Pues mi memorias de ti desaparecen
con el correr de la arena
de un bulbo al otro.