Algo falso, erróneo hay acá adentro Poem by Daniel Samoilovich
Algo falso, erróneo hay acá adentro
que desgasta las cosas que decimos:
los vasos son prudentes, quietos
sobre el mantel manchado.
Un ala, un sesgo, un caer
en picada sobre la presa:
es posible que ya no, que no.
Pero la escena se distrae
y opaca, su sentido fracasa
en su propia evidencia.
El maître como una araña pensativa
mira el jardín desde el vano de la puerta.
Tuesday, June 4, 2019
Topic(s) of this poem: son
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8/29/2026 8:56:55 PM # rel_20260827T145718Z_a0f1bd3
