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from the June 2017 issue



That sturdy show
still surprises,
unsettles words.
All was not said
nor did you then
dress your gaze
in blue.
All was not said,
the rain a kind of tango.
It was dawn.



                                               What’s sacred is the voices
                                               never the words.
                                               poetry is no longer enough.
                                               Desert without mirrors
                                               or mirages.
                                               where dreams
                                               no longer profane.

                                               mass grave
                                               to so much masquerade.
                                               It had all been said
                                               definitive voices
                                               can only silence.



Sadness is not so sad
nor so arrogant
the hand of the sun.
It’s this: we’re seeking water
Where there is only thirst. 


© Raquel Lubartowski. From Raras. By arrangement with the author. Translation © 2017 by Carolina De Robertis. All rights reserved.

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