translated by Susan Ayres
A banner flies on the jetty.
In the bar’s mirror
the towers slim down on the other shore.
Stripes of light in the middle of the river.
The water like a gray sheet,
The gaze goes from the lighthouse
to the gloom of the worn wooden floor.
Crossing the mirror, lights from the coast guard.
Its foghorn devours the music
and the tinkle of glasses put away.
Phrases like endless docks.
The heart set on its departure—
and the steps just do not arrive.
The sun, already hidden, extinguishes all reflection
on the water
—navigable in its dark ciphers.
Their crowded tumult
tumbles like the sea.
And suddenly, strange accents
in that night joining in two bodies
the sky with the earth.
Published in Cider Press Review, Volume 22, Issue 3.
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