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"The barbarians
are arriving today."
C. Cavafi
It's
time to think
about
my baggage
the
suitcase is tiny
my
perfumes won't fit
not
my necklace
much
less my books.
What
will I take with me
to
the other side?
Naturally the first
lightening
bolt
that
kindled our love
I'll
also take
the
razor glance
of
that child
it
wasn't for me
nor
for anyone
blindly
it grazed me
and
opened this wound
that
will not close.
I
must be selective
in
my memories
carefully
compressing
those
I pack
and
out of self-compassion
abandoning
the rest.
I
will take with me
of
course
the
afternoon in Cahill's Tavern
I
told you about Sandino
and
Farabundo
and
you didn't understand
but
wanted to learn
and
little by little
we
wandered into
the
Hall of Los
and
you were William Walker
and
I Rafaela Herrera
and
what was I doing
amongst
the barbarians of the north
who
invaded us
invade
us now
and
will invade again?
What
was I doing
far
from Izalco
far
from my homeland?
And
the night kept falling
quietly
and
we were there inside
penetrating
ever more deeply
trapped
by our pasts
by
our futures
and
your tongue is foreign
I
barely understand you
what
am I doing here?
But
I look at you and know
that
you will be my man
and
you still don't know it
and
I stifle a laugh
and
don't say anything
I
choke down words.
It's
impossible, I think, what am I doing here
so
far from my country?
and
a tremor seized me
when
I crossed the threshold
my
first earthquake
erupting
in my Jurassic strata
and
I encountered the mother
the
children
the
bother
Persephone
and
Kali
and
Tlaloc
and
the night kept falling
quietly
on
empty bottles
and
the glasses
and
the waiter told us
it
was closing time
and
I walked out squeezing your hand
it
was the first tremor
the
first tidal wave
of
the blind throbbing
that
never abandons me.
You
were the fish
slapping
the water
with
your tail
engendering
these concentric circles
that
open
expand
disperse:
waves
that break
on
my farthest shore.
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