Ode to Deal

by Leo Boix

To Jorge Eduardo Eielson


Morning hour, the humidity of plants
our nocturnal bodies
the protection of the bed
Static, the pond
you stare at me, with closed eyes


The symmetrical opening of the sun
the first hours of the day
the blackbird suspended on the eaves
to untangle the mystery


The bedroom and the bedsheets
without clothes
from the bay window, the marine wind
incessantly brings
that taste of salt


The seagulls are up
singing and singing and singing
amulets of good luck
they come from the fields
to die in the sea


The clouds make occult
the mid morning light
colorless roof tiles
the wind picks up
because down in the sunken garden
the Camellia tree oscillates,


At lunch
the courtyard covers us
the jug of water
plates, salad
which we eat
without knowing


We swim towards the Pier
limpid green blue
and the feet touching
the depth of the abyss
the town over there
to shed yourself
amid suspended things


Vertical sun
bathers in colors
bawling kids
and the solid seabird
towards the vertiginous blue
you fell sleep


Towards the afternoon we undid
the bag full of sand and stones
the wet towel
hanging from the door
dying slowly


The sky explodes in pink
crisscrossed with swallows
while the light is taking us
bit by bit


After dinner
we retreat to the darkness of the house
the lamps are lit
marking the rhythm
we embrace for heat
so that we may be devoured by sleep


In the tranquility
the moon bathes our library
the chairs immobile
and on the carpets
the forms of our words lie reflected