the unasked-for imperative
suddenly death runs ahead of her, pushed through the country’s railings to get in. All night long they took her around the parks; her words treated her well, stubbornly hiding the dry spot. The earth howled: you are dead tissue, you refuse to decompose. Years later, the vigil lamp burns on Uncle’s wooden leg, while beside the child, the cradle secretly absolves her innocence.
[ madre ] Mother, how did the body stand, a candle sharpened into a dire delusion? How did the fabric stand upright, creaking before the elegance of your substance, in your presence, each day, in the full lotus pose? I could manage to swallow three doses of holy water, to endure the sheer, headlong fall from grandeur, Mother.
