Victoria Redel
BOTTOM LINE
As when my father goes back under
and the doctor comes out to tell us he’s put a window in my father’s heart.
At last! The inscrutable years are over. I’ll look right in
before the glass gets smudged, before he has a chance to buy drapes or slatted blinds.
It will be a picture window; I’ll be a peeping Tom.
Imagine the balcony of secrets, the longings: our future a window box of heart-to-hearts.
Then he’s awake, calling for morphine,
his pain greater than from the first surgery.
On the next rounds the doctor clarifies:
the window’s really more like a gutter so built-up fluids can drain.
And I remember my father on a ladder
pulling down leaves and rot, each year saying, Do I need this kind of trouble?
Saying, A new roof? You think I’m made of money?
Draw the shades. Let him rest. Let me sit beside my father in the dark.
* *
Image: Marisela LaGrave
[ + bar ]
Ishion Hutchinson
A GIRL AT CHRISTMAS
The choir that cannot die. Fish and fennel. Snow. Christmas tree, clover and pomegranate.
For all she’s gladdened: milk which is love dreaming in one hand; clefts of clementine stain
the other.... Read More »
. . This Monday,
Mario Bellatin David Shook Pola Oloixarac Martin Caamaño Fernando Montes Vera
celebrate the birthday of the immortal Edgardo Cozarinsky with live READINGS and film SCREENINGS
January 20 at 6:00pm Fundación Proa Av. Don Pedro de Mendoza 1929 La Boca,... Read More »
Lohvinaŭ [minsk]
Maryia Martysevich
The Republic of Belarus is often called “the last dictatorship of Europe,” but you’d hardly think so upon arriving in Minsk, its capital. This... Read More »
La Inestable [lima]
Alicia Bisso translated by Heather Cleary
I never liked poetry. My self-imposed task of learning to read it began with a strange discovery. One afternoon, a traffic jam... Read More »

sending...