A HOLLOW TOOTH IN THE LIGHT OF THE NOCTURNAL EYE
Carlos Barbarito
trans. Brian Cole
°***°
A hollow tooth in the light of the nocturnal eye
and between the folds, a benevolence that offers no
reply.
Perhaps a fly flies over what remains;
now I remove it from my mouth
and the wave returns me in confusion to what I thought
was dust.
My brother did not come. He stayed
there, where the grass vomited by animals piles up.
His hand is freezing far from mine
and no vessel or mask sustains him.
The
question rots in the empty ear.
The dream is disturbed in its faded pomp.
The wind sweeps away the last remains.
There will be no gilded carriage, flocks of species,
no head that does not bow to the ephemeral.
And in its sane dementia, obscene,
through the air of my air, the evidence rambles.
...
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