Synchronization
For Ileana in “La Fortuna”
An skeptical look
that was once a surprise
as seen from outside.
Empty hands
caress-free.
Few words are
confirmed by motion;
fewer gestures
render hope.
Outside,
sound and light
crowd the street
the sun is a chrysanthemum
that sheds dry petals.
Inside,
the clock dangles, deserted,
its needles and seconds
cruise an empty face.
Outside,
packed hands are another narcotic
to enchant the masses;
armfuls of bodies
that fail to embrace;
storms perform within breasts
afore silent transparent stares,
illusions clouded with shame.
A conscience weighs like a century…
It’s so hard amid the tome to find another verse,
so hard to bend the spine for another dressing;
effort and success share an inverse relation.
An invoice follows every kiss;
for every outstretched hand, a receipt;
there are no policies for the soul,
hope is overdrawn
when emotion is the debt.
How small is the cost of selfishness
when one has nothing at all.
And yet
we are always surprised
by a smooth cheek
and fresh news.
A friend
unleashes our smile
and files away a pain.
Why, there are
singular ways of loving
and spring surprises us all,
all that is simple,
all that is very old.
We must surprise our reason
with a Pegasus,
and Pygmalion must be yanked
from our consciousness.
Life is not a present split
to be lived in halves.
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Copyright by José Muratti.