Make yourself a memory

 
it's not like there's been a martian invasion
but the butterflies broke all the windows

dead birds in every hollow corner of the garden
fresh food for fly larvae, mouths and fairies

flowers with petals of letters that form nothing
not a word nor a verse nor any arithmic poetry

daggers of ice piercing the luminous young fruits
passing through the tender almost white meats

in the greenhouse there is a memory of orchids
and carnivorous plants that grew under the hair

it's more like there's been a sudden storm
a carnival, a cleaning of all the rooms in the place

quiet molds on the wall behind the wardrobe and
the smell of all the bodies that ever inhabited it

and so we leave without having saved any sounds
with our stringed musical instruments on our backs

stopped for an interminable time in a quiet station
waiting for the next train out of the desert town


PAR