Nuestra Señora de La Paz

Two voices from the bedroom

Qué quieres?

I think one says

In the garden another family

from their open window

the percussive noise of breakfast

plates pans and a radio

also pigeons

rubbish trucks

there is a morning every day

it seems hard to believe

a sunlight

It won’t be my madness that kills me

I think I can say this now

maybe cowardice

in the bedroom they have perhaps

their first small conflict

maybe just fear

not knowing how to place themselves

maybe one of the cancers

soft in the beginning of their love

or an accident

learning how to wear their need

like a fall from a bicycle

I love to hear their sound

like a fire

everything still possible