Raquel Angel Nagler Poems

Garlands
Around my soul,
Leaves scorched by their inner autumn
Seem like a human purgatory:
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Sun
Evening carry my head on a tray
From its blinding hours
Into another kind of dream.
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The pyramides, the stars
On the roof of my night
Dawn’s tongue licks
The taste of shared illusions:
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In Dante’s inferno
My golden bee in martyred
In a jar of burning honey.
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My pink piglets:
Little cannibals of dream,
Gulp the peels and the pearls
Of my inner hunger.
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Behind the door
Of days that flow till evening,
I drink, like a shadow,
The long hours of rejection: the bitter water,
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Behind the door, tattooed by the rain and the hours,
I paint the damp light in the room,
Like a shadow: the bitter brush of rejection,
Until there is nothing anymore to reject.
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In the small twilight of my room
I suckle again and again my shadow: the child of rejection,
As if I could rescue it, not by love,
But by the nipple of our shared solitude.
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Often I voyage to the impenetrable solitude of a room,
Where my echoes: the cry of rejection,
Are buried, each in its own brick of memory.
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The shaman of fear
The shaman of the thousand faces, thousand solitudes,
Dances in my shut eyes:
The private night of my years.
...