Chinches en el Espejo

junio 29, 2008

June 23

Filed under: Poesía — chinchesenelespejo @ 11:08 pm


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.

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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