5. maybe ten to 5. more or less. There is no sun,
nor crickets, nor cocks, nor the smell of coffee that Alberto
used to leave for her.
But she knows that a new is about to begin.
Because she listens to the smell of dew that penetrates her bones and the
beats of her heart quenching her thirst, sprinkling her with life..
Jesus, i listen. And i thank you. Hail Mary, full of grace.
She listens to her crackling deaf legs that rebel, and her pain gets sweeter
while remembering how wet wood crackles in the stove.
I’ m standing my god. may thy will be done.
She listens to the light. The room is full of it. It is nearly deafening. There they
are, all around, the little devils.
They run around an hide. They collide and run. They smell of earth, soap and
cherries. quiet kids, you ‘ll hurt yourself, I’ll tell your grandpa!
She listens to her face and throath twitch.
I listen Jesus, may thy kingdom come.
She listens to the skin of her face stretch in a smile. Alberto is there, in the
door, hungry as a lion.
He smells of chippings and iron dust and turnip and flowers. he’s giving his
hand. And her breath still cracks.
Prayae to you, Christ.
I’ll listen to every wonderful moment you’ll want to give me. every shadow.
And when the time has come, i’ll be ready again to look at your light and listen
to your voice.