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Owning the roses

Maybe we didn’t own the roses?

That afternoon as never before
the questions
who was where??
flew round the table.

They asked for Juan
and for Pedro
who wasn’t there.

They were asking about the house
that was always so big
and filled with sun.

They asked for the uncles
and for those who one day would disappear
(and neither god nor chance
had anything to do with this.)

The asked for the strong healthy father
lover of wine and pleasure
and the questions
hung there open-mouthed
to discover he was no longer.

And the lady with the long long hair?
And the blind man with the accordeon?

That afternoon they asked
as they had never asked
where was the dog,
and the robin,
and the cat with seven lives
who slept in the sun
like the fishermen
out on the river. . .

And then they asked
for each of the fishermen out on the river.

And for Claudia
who looked after her garden,
and Sebastian and Carlos
who painted the house
every summer,

and for Beatriz and Amanda
and for Esteban and Ana Maria,
and they asked for Rosa
and Jose Luis.

And for the unending river
that doesn’t return.

barra azul

© 2009 Jorge Palma - -