Dregs
(For Spanish translation click here)

This afternoon it’s raining, as never before; and I don’t

feel like staying alive, heart.

This afternoon is gentle. Why not?

Wears grace and grief, dressed like a woman.

This afternoon, in Lima, it’s raining. And I remember

the cruel caverns of my ingratitude;

my block of ice on her poppy,

stronger than her “Don’t be this way!”

My violent black flowers; and the barbarous

and staggering blow with a stone; and the glacial roof.

And will put the silence of her dignity

with burning oils on the endpoint.

Therefore, this afternoon, as never before, I walk

with this owl, with this heart.

And other women pass me by; and seeing me so sad,

they take a little piece from you,

in the abrupt wrinkle of my deep grief.

This afternoon it’s raining, rain so hard. And I don’t

feel like staying alive, heart!