carlos caceres Poems

Scratching voices are rising from the shadows…
Glory to you
To God and to the bravest gays!
...

The fate is painful
like a razor blade pressing down my wrists,
the winter has just come,
and instead of snow it carried salt
...

Children would play in the street,
Kicking a ball, tossing a coin, pilling up empty cans of milk,
Sweat oozing down his faces…
And I used to stand behind curtains of solitude,
...