Words that fall from my pen
A Portrait in Chad
A well fills with the memory of water
A moment stretches tight across the facebone
A fly lights, orbits and lights
Cracks of parched lips mark roads
In a map of nowhere to go
Termites tunnel in the history of roots
They lay their eggs
In the cavity of a yam
Four thousand eggs rise in bile
That burns from the stomach to the tongue
Waves of air divide
And multiply the heat by three
And suck the stares of sixty thousand eyes
Into the liquid desert
A moment pulls hard on the backbone
A fly lights, orbits and lights, orbits
Waiting for the opening of the face
He was followed by the dog.
The dog followed him.
El perro le sigio.
When the man went in
He lay and waited.
He waited for the man.
The feet moved by.
The wheels rolled by,
His head held up by the sounds.
The man came out.
The dog lifted his head,
Sniffed the smoke on his pants,
The smoke on his fingers,
His empty hand.