, & # 160; ... "Would be the world's ox that is daughter" Juan Gelman
Anchored to my nature
mud first, germinal
concavity filled with warm blood. Godson
these meats, traveled life I'm wishing for a circle
forced
miss the memories of the sky. Sometimes
flight bird
the most hopeful, lost feathers.
I left the dome of stars look small wings
when enlarged. Return
always return
claim his land when the mud blooms
for pleasure and complicity of my ox.
always knew the world would
the ox what daughter.
, & # 160; Susana Micone
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