Marisa Martínez Pérsico - A LOVE FEATHER IN THE FLANK

The subject of my dreams
is composed
of the most untoward things.

A castle in the sea
from where I didn’t see
a broken orange sunset.

A stain of a volcano without fire
wounded by a city that surrounds it
from a tram that leads me
to the South.

An animal groaning in the distance
just when I’m not able
to assist him.

A rainy afternoon with an umbrella.

Another imperfect searching for a hug.

If somebody could read
the hidden tapestry of my dreams
would call me a coward.

Sometimes I wake up
as if the world were growing elsewhere
and it was enough to buy a chair
between the sky and bed,
that spatial ship that drives me
as a cheap cinematograph
to the dubious future
of another route with you.

But the end is always announced
in white letters
on a dark backdrop.

As you can see,
against the grain of life,
I keep dreaming about you.

Translated by Marisa Martínez Pérsico