Raquel Angel Nagler Poems

Certain words,
Shielded and blind as a fist,
Find me naked
At my aching door, cracked like a voice.
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On the shattered floor of the day
We step barefoot
Among the useless fragments of words:
Fragile masks of our soul.
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Tangled in my daily net
I sip through its punctured lips
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A l e a f i n t h e p o n d
Deep in the pond of sighs
I can’t hear the first ripple
Nor the centuries of fall
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A p o n d
I don’t know what is the weight of reflections,
How do they become,
Like a scar on the water,
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SOCIAL MURMUR
Maybe the island of my tongue
Is just a cliff smoothed by the liquid murmur
Weeping its tears of sand:
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Small-faced birds
Lay in the mouth of the azure air
The gift of glory:
The fireworks of their voice.
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