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 ]
Derek Gromadzki
KATABASIS SUITE
* *
Image: “Hoy viernes 122″ by Sergio Jiménez. Curated by Marisa Espínola for Espacio en Blanco. (More)
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 »
from The Sofa Sages
Eitán Futuro translated by Jennifer Croft
Lara began to kiss me. I hadn’t kissed her first because I thought you couldn’t kiss them on the mouth. I touched... Read More »
Profética [puebla]
Rafael Toriz Translated by Julia Ostmann
Chatting Over A Drink Conversation in the Convent
Being, appearing to be, and running a bookstore in Mexico is a high art, not... Read More »

sending...