At three in the afternoon the bell chides like Velcro peeling apart
At exactly three in the afternoon the sun reaches down with the legs of a spider
The locusts creak; uneasy in their skeletons;
They leap
From edifice to edifice
Weltering in the stillness of the spider's legs
As though stillness produced a quake, a quiver;
A terpsichorean trauma
All things moving to escape the stillness
Knowing that no saw or sword
Could free the heart.
The katydids move with diligent sorrow
They are conscious that the stillness is upon them
While feasting
The katydids hear the branches whisper
And they echo the message;
No challis will hold the heart.
~Yo. ¡Sólo yo! Labrando la bandeja donde no irá mi cabeza. ¡Sólo yo!
Amor,
Digress.
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