Repetition Nineteen. Mónica de la Torre
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Название: Repetition Nineteen
Автор: Mónica de la Torre
Издательство: Ingram
Жанр: Зарубежные стихи
isbn: 9781643620633
isbn:
an accomplice or an enemy.
Three books open, three grains of salt.
Four times a name and nothing said.
Four is the same as two.
And if you ask five times
What am I doing here, burning your bed,
let it burn and go.
The Poem Is Titled Equivalencies
There’s some silence, the serving of something that’s bitter,
I know that.
And there’s something inside something else.
There’s two roads from a source and—
wow, my memory these days!—
Oh yeah, your eyes are closed during a nap.
Yeah, mirror something, there’s two somethings.
There’s two lights and two boys and then there’s three.
There’s three open books and three grains of salt.
And there’s something else I didn’t understand.
And some complicit enemy.
Four times I call your name and nothing.
Four times is the same as two times.
Five times, or the fifth time, is the same.
I call your name, and… I don’t hear you.
I’m sensing that the person to whom the poem is addressed
is as distracted as I am right now.
Someone isn’t listening to something.
Equivalent Equivalence
A mute flare-up
a sip of coffee before the bitter one knew about it.
A hole inside a whole two roads
and a pair of sleeping eyes.
How many mirrors are there too?
The afternoon tumbles and two lights pop out
two children passing as tú.
3 space guarantee
the promise of a complex and an enemy
free open books, 3 grams of salt.
I said four asterisks and named nothing.
What is the same as ______ ?
Yes, 5 times you wonder what I do here?
Light your bed on fire, let it combust and divide itself.
Like in Valencia
The silence of Esmeralda.
The sorbet at the café is superior.
The oil at the dentist was relaxing.
The two roads were doubly tragic.
The serrano peppers caused me to take a long nap.
The quantity of spectators was twice as large.
The guy was a little slow on Sunday.
The two eels seem like three.
Three in space is guaranteed.
Whoever is complacent with me is my friend.
Three books that have beards
look grand in the sun.
Four as a number is nothing.
Four amuses two.
Five is a vessel.
Something to do with water….water is the key to five.
Camel to camel, they like to eat green.
Your Turn
‘The quiet before an announcement.
A mouthful of coffee.
Then the acrimony—the acrimony!—in such bitter substitutions.
At the pass there were two roads.
I closed my eyes and speculated if they were mirrored.
Not to say that I took this to be true on the basis of insufficient evidence, like in the tome.
My reflection lacked such polish.
One thing was clear: all three of them had parents.
Peace, security, sure. But also accomplices, enemies.
Call them what you will.
Collaborators, cronies, reciprocal minions, nursing their resentment.
A symbol, a distinctive designation, an epithet, even a record.
When anything could be a name, two people might as well be four.
What to do here?
I’m no baker.
I could make you a place in which to lie.
Please let me burn.
Picture Character
Finger pointing up. Zipper-Mouth Face,
and an angular burst of orange and red in star-like shape.
Scrunched Eyes after a hot beverage.
A heavy large red circle that stands for what is correct in Japan.
There is room inside of rightness for what is right.
A Pedestrian faces two motorways.
Eyeballs shut turn into Sleeping Face.
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