el marWander

The first flight was a cramped
stomach, little terrifying fears
as certain nights of childhood,
dark dreams, black shadows,
what anxiety, ending september

and all getting inexorably lost,
so far, there in such a long night
over the Atlantic watters I was
closing myself, strechting the threads
of the so doleful absence.

There was no farewell, not at all,
I’ve never said good-bye, there remained
all of them, not knowing so I remained,
the whole life to realize that I actually
did not leave and never would,

broken I remained and a bit broken
I go on dribbling curves and pendulum,
who departed was the other of me,
not I, father, but we both, and the more
I sing and talk, I beg for assent

(it’s my hardly learned job), the sorrows
last forever, and what I’ve learned
keeps on rolling and playing, keeps on
crossing the seas, here the sighs of a poor
broken heart which never said good-bye

and now, look how it ended… oh yes,
wandering may end like that — if it’s
necessary to leave, I don’t say good-bye,
I never will, to anybody, and much less
to myself or the others of me

good trip, sunny boy, father says
passing the right over the faint tourmaline
of his eyes (the treacherous droplet)

and mom, barely talking,
nearly fainting, half dazed,
oh son of my anguish…

until when?