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Friday, 17 February 2012

Luis Cuauhtemoc Berriozabal-


The soft sky can’t hold up the sun.
A bird flies across the sky singing.
The soft sky trembles. If it had a lip,
it would be bleeding. The moon
and stars will be the end of the sky.
The soft sky can’t carry the mist.
Autumn brings the sky to its knees.
In the wet soil the soft sky drowns
as beasts crawl out of the earth
crying like infants in a sky-less world.


The shaking tree
was shivering.
The trembling leaves
were shivering.
They were afraid
of being afraid.
They could not say
the word afraid.
They were afraid
for months. They were
watching the birds
and passing clouds.
A flock of birds
in the sky flew
like assassins.
They scared the tree.
Back and forth they
flew, back and forth.

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