Soliloquies of a Soldier


                                    II



I wish to open my veins under the peach trees,
in that distracted Summer of my mouth.
I wish to open my veins in search of your scent,
heavy wheel consumed by bitter poppies.

I ignored your delicate vigilant beehive.
River of butterflies born in my waist.
And I separated the yolks, the trembling of poplars,
and the wind that arrived with a mask of grapes.

I didn’t want to dissolve when I couldn’t see you
but you sustained me with cool olive hands.
Navigating star I couldn’t see your gunwale
but you crossed over me as of a distracted sea.

Now I discover you, such a wounded stranger,
paradise severed, realm of my blood.
An iron herb passes over my face . . .
Only now do my disinherited eyes open.

Now that I can’t demolish your boundary
under my forehead, behind my words.
Touching my old shadow inhabited by orange blossoms,
my blind heart lost in city blocks.

Now I am awake.  Born at last my eyes
treaded upon by smoke, unearthing spiders,
hard stratum of algae with dead watchmen
who ceaselessly devour their frozen roots.

And I cross over you, fierce tunnel of nettles,
whirlpool of swords, vomit of death.
I come seized by the mane of a thorny horse
that flies with burning cities in its gut.

I am awake, awake and obedient to my hands,
like a river of gunpowder curdled in my breath,
now that I am alone and enemy of the air,
dry, uprooted, naked, battling.


Sara de Ibanez