Painting by Stephanie Borg
He gently desintegrated
listening to a tango
at 2:00 a.m
His body is a particle
of sofness waiting to be
blown.
His heart is behind him.
He always learns
to be nobody repeating himself
to himself when that song
pinches him on the inner arm:
it is the same pain year after year.
He built an altar for it
beside his bed just
to exercise his tears,
whispering
don't cry for me Argentina,
let me cry for you,
let me cry for us.
Karla Bardanza
Copyright©Karla Bardanza 2011
Another poem that rings forth with such deep loyalty and emotion! You do everyone justice in this flower! EXALT!
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