SEVACABAR
I
All the news is wrong.
Well ... will be a matter of leaning
the countryside where she was always teasing;
ask the willow to the solitary wasp passenger.
No one has seen lately softened his footsteps
in the mud, pieces of its shadow
float off into the sunset, frayed.
you knew it was his identity through his fingers stirred
emptied his wallet on the grass. Forgot
personal gestures
his scar came from a difficult birth?
Can not remember their cries of innocence
the voice that was slowly making crack
and lined the back wall by his hands? Perhaps it is better
not remember anything, you
service was limited to following orders. Play
just with their children and tell the story of the ill
who wanted to deface the order
with pencil crayons violent strangers.
Tell Dad gave they deserve
electrical bursts, chipped knives, airless dungeons
a large jug of shit. Dad is good Argentine
and good soldier. Thanks to him grow
democratic free
endless chewing gum and chewing Americans.
will grow on land planted in a garden
bodies shielded underground
where lies a flower that sprang from his last eye,
those who pursue him at night, without rest.
II have come in defense of private property. Destroy
kicked the door glass and windows broken
violate all locks drawers cupboards pierce
stabbed the bed walls.
One saves a ashtray another
gently slide a wristwatch in your pocket looking for more hurried
the silver. Someone points out a crucifix
frightened witnessing the scene, it weighed him down
discuss the case of pure bronze
has
over a gold-plated "how is quoted today in place?
have come in defense but attack points
Struck by many shelves
the encrypted message on a white sheet that drawing
child in the fogged glass
them four inches stick out your tongue. These men work destroying
are uniformed
demolition crew instead of talking putean
smiling grunt sniff corners and wet.
have come in defense of peace with clubs
grenade machine guns
trephine
mortar machines dig a tank on every corner.
have come but no one
and have to steal just to steal,
again left for the feast of blood.
III
When he heard the first siren went away a little
sill and closed the blinds.
was a shame to give up that soft and mellifluous
moon naively pale
but clouded
toxic gases such sweetness and apparently burning and
night on all four sides. For the first shots
stepped back and closed the door-almost-
freshly painted inside your room.
In the darkness we could hear the crackle
naked lust for violence unleashed. Now forced an entry
hoarse whistles
obscenities erupted surreptitious orders from who knows where for many.
Pushed by muffled sobs
first got into the bathroom, threw the double key,
a corner curled up in arms over the head
eyes inward.
After a brief pause he believed "the main thing is
faith, God smiles you have felt isolated liquid
dripping thick just above just above
'm just not in a whisper he said, almost stammering.
Then the light came on strong light from the cruelty and soft
paragraph
the good guy to ever get into those things
mother's son to follow and always welcomed
disappeared so brutally.
Eduardo Romano (1938). Poet, writer and journalist born in Avellaneda, Buenos Aires province, lies in the Federal Capital. He holds a Bachelor of Arts and Philosophy, UBA, was professor at the Seminar on Popular Culture and Mass at the Faculty of Social Sciences at the university. As a journalist, collaborated in "La Opinión", "Argentine Time", "Page 12" and magazine Crisis ", among other print media. "In his work live the revaluation of everyday experience, sometimes modeled formal schemes of tango, a theme centered on love, the streets of the city, the characters and myths of Buenos Aires", has scored a literary critic of his poetry But we have this blog who believe that his poetry goes beyond these concepts. Poetry books: "18 Poems", "No entry", "Some lives, some love", "mishiadura", "bending the knee."
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