Chinches en el Espejo

junio 29, 2008

June 23

Filed under: Poesía — chinchesenelespejo @ 11:08 pm

APRIL 18

the slime of all my yesterdays
rots in the hollow of my skull

and if my stomach would contract
because of some explicable phenomenon
such as pregnancy or constipation

I would not remember you

or that because of sleep
infrequent as a moon of greencheese
that because of food
nourishing as violet leaves
that because of these

and in a few fatal yards of grass
in a few spaces of sky and treetops

a future was lost yesterday
as easily and irretrievably
as a tennis ball at twilight

* * * *

Unfortunately, Sylvia Plath knew the meaning of losing.

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2 comentarios »

  1. Increíble Sylvia Plath.
    Tengo su Diario y es imperdible.
    Qué lindo es tu blog.

    Comentario por poesiacompleta — julio 3, 2008 @ 1:05 pm | Responder

  2. Muchas gracias por el comentario :-).

    Comentario por chinchesenelespejo — julio 3, 2008 @ 8:28 pm | Responder


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