I AWAITED HER COMING

the mother said to her child: ‘Be good’
i said: ‘It’s been a long time baby’
the trees have been telephoning the skies
speaking agitatedly of your coming,
the stars have been sending telegrams
giving accounts of your beauty to the moon,
guitars have been strumming gross serenades
to herald your coming; the leaves have been
clapping.

and now that you come you are a corpse
draped in vulgar satin, and now that you come
your dead lips do not speak my name; and
flowers or are they weeds are sprouting from
your face, and your eyes no longer hold the
ravished treasurers of conquered stars.
where are you now my baby ?
why are you not the same as before ?
the little sparrow who wore imported dresses
and painted her little beak so that indisputedly
it seemed she was the most provocative bird
of her time ?

why are the vines around your waist rotten
and why do i shudder when you do not speak my name;
and the moon, why does the moon cough
when you show your frozen gums ?
What happened when you were distributing your
wares on silent corners; were you bitten in depth;
did you fall into the gutters in love one final time ?
and now that you offer me an icemouth which says:
‘I am forever grateful’
while your mother cooks red fish in the steam