Anna Aguilar Amat Poems

Of all cruel thoughts, the one of others being like you
is the most drenching. It takes from them what is theirs:
the way their hair grows, the colour of their garments,
...

Tonight another oil-tanker has burst among the stars.
The sky grows heavy with dark curtains moving
snake-like, north and south in different waves.
...

When you thank me for my smiling hands,
for a flower growing in my eyes, for a quotation from
Chesterton, or for the secret longing to do up one of your
...

Picking up green bottle-ends and golden shells
on the beach may be an innocent act, full of beauty
for the walker who uses his eyes. But it can also be
...

You are vulnerable. A fir-tree living on a balcony.
Your crown unkindly forces you to remember the hostile
anonymity of green expanses.
...

The liquid is made of mud, as dense as blood, and carries along
chairs, tables, trees and a moped.
Like one of those bulls with knobs on its horns, it rushes unpredictably
down the main street of a town where you lived
...

These are already too small for you now. I slip
my fingers in and feel the soles
of your feet, the negative both of a time in which
...

Waiting is soft at first, like a drop of resin,
the stifled desire of the insect you are; futile showiness
these fragile wings inside the dense liquid.
While I wait until it's time to see the children,
...

In the air there are mountains and plateaux
with their foothills, hollows, chasms, slopes.
The clouds sour up and encircle them. They do not
climb to the tophost, summits and, for this reason,
...