In every prophylaxis there are ashes magnetic resonances
Rough sedimented fingerprints reprinted in pine tar
Twenty-five years of these streets’ intermission
Cobblestones and railroad scars
How the drought encroaches on garbage dumps
Clepysydra helpless against itself across the latex
Precarity of its names forming labyrinths
Of points and figures constellations that in its language
Register the astrolabe and the slow water of reflection
Hope street Exposición the stables near Club Hipico
The stockyards the miniature mountain ranges Cités like those
That San Antonio dreamt of
Meditating in the desert
Like veronica’s rudimentary cloak your face
In the sacks of potatoes and the hundredweight of flour for the winter
Life that grows around you beyond the forms
In which time seeks to dilate a jade ring or green glass
Your mouth hidden by the saurian back
The eyebrows sunken among the crust of moss
The eyes of a cuttlefish among the
Marks of its suckers behind your ears
There where your skin was born blinded by the hook
Behind your greyish teeth your tongue drowns
The cry of the crabs
While your laughter’s echo
Dilates the morning
The pincers describe the cause
Joined in with the abandoned enterprise
Of state railways
What films began to cover your image
While you floated in the river and we awaited your magnificent arrival
Ensconced in your cellophane robe
And scraps of red frilled paper
The sweet seahorse and the nuptial meninx
What creatures awaiting you among the cypresses
The lichens of your silken tomb
Where the eel with its slime gathers worms
Traversing large tracts of land
To hear the transcription of a scream
The place that preserves it from nacre and coral
All the germinating of calcium on the carrion
Rejects that your body be eaten by the fish
That the cold intensify like subtle hands
Separating the meat impregnated by musk and vanilla
The scorpion in the indiscernible darkness
Of the hyaloid material the pupils
The mastic that announces its reign
One day frightened by its song you looked for the nightingale nest
There among the mice and rotten nuts in the ceiling
On climbing down from the walnut you stepped on a rusty nail
Which made you sleep
Waking with a fever twenty-five years later
You began to recite the alphabet in the darkened room
They brought you to that abandoned theater among the orphans and Augustinians
The one you enter through a hole
There were bells and electric coils
A very tall old man whispered in your ear
While trying to make you eat golden apples
A soup made from eggs
They, too, were golden
When they broke they birthed
Enormous moths with salamander feet
That nosed around the bottles
The napkins with children’s drawings
Remains of dust and lithium
Trash under the armchair
Among hundreds of x-rays
In the video they found in your room you were talking
About parasites that we’d see slithering under your skin
About an orb of wasps on your face cut from the sky
About scrubbing the smell of tobacco with acid and pricking my fingers
Bronchi recovering among the blackberries
Reading words on the blue lips that deny the dubious trance
Reconstructing my belly among the thistles
The amorous trail of coelenterates
The inertia of my teeth inhabited
By the ghost of electricity
It was spotted in ectoplasm backwaters
Like a burn mark your figure
Burned through the acrylic
The tub buried in the shrubs
Toward which the cables guided us
It was like the face of god crossed out on the walls
At the bottom of a trough full of flowers
They drink and bite
Themselves
In truth they sought you in all those waters
Diverting the pulp through the vitreous humor
The honeyed hair on the stigma
The trees’ rotten siren
Forms the temple where the larva drink
And the bats fly past
But a lost voice beyond infinite folds
Protected your body from glory
In this red curtained waiting room
There the pause remains there in the peristyle
Here night remains the water and the poem