for my niece Graciela

And what ever happened 

to the poor dead girls 

so cleverly kidnapped

from their April days,

those who rose and submerged 

like dolphins in the waves?

Where did they go, 

and where are they found?

Were they trapped with knives of laughter 

or seized while awaiting

the voice of a lover in pursuit?

Were they erased like sketches 

that God did not want to color again 

or drowned little by little, 

like a garden flooded by its fountains?

At times they long 

to trace their profiles in water, 

and among the flesh-red roses, 

their smiles are almost seen.

Their bodies and shadows 

become fleeting visions in pastures; 

through enchantment, they almost 

convince a cloud to lend them shape.

They almost mend their broken bodies; 

they almost arrive happy at the sun; 

they almost disown their cursed road

and remember their way back home.

They almost defeat their betrayal 

and walk back to the fold 

And in the afternoon

we can almost see 

the divine million come!
 
 
 

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Page last edited February 14, 2000
by: PhoneBoy