Translated by Anna Rosenwong
It’s something no one regrets.
Menacing rituals arrive like an avalanche
and social norms.
Their arrival scares off any afternoon idle.
Shut the doors.
We’re cast down defeated in moonlight.
I hope the moon
doesn’t draw us toward violent times.
I was never violent
and I won’t turn violent now.
As for you I love you moonless
in the sin of your own courage.
The letters of each syllable sink
in my room monsters surge back to life from a word.
in scattered cages.
I regard my thoughts.
Image: Eloisa Ballivian
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The images featured in BAR(2) were selected by Marisa Espínola and appear courtesy of:
Espacio en Blanco www.espacioenblancocultural.org
Espacio en Blanco began in Buenos Aires in 2009, when writer Francisco Moulia and... Read More »