Piscinas vernales

IMG_8646

Lejos de mí,

pero bajo el mismo cielo anciano,

mi madre gira

y se viste,

se pone la lámpara

y reúne a su equipo.

El reloj de la luna

ha sonado la noche anual

de las salamandras.

Las ayuda a cruzar

el terreno peligroso,

el depredador moderno:

la calle.

 

Ella es partera

a las salamandras

que emergen,

fébriles y calientes,

de sus túneles debajo del bosque,

arrastrándose

en búsqueda de las piscinas vernales,

efímeras y llenas de las llamadas

hambrientas y urgentes

de querer soltar

otra cascada de huevos

en el agua fresca y frío.

 

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5 thoughts on “Piscinas vernales

  1. I like moments like this that shove me outside my literacy comfort zone. There’s enough in this poem I can latch onto to keep me reading and making sense, yet there’s much more that leaves me with questions. Suddenly, I can’t take reading for granted.

    Like

  2. Que interesante! I had no idea this happened, I had to look it up online to read more about it. Is that a picture from your mom? I love the figurative language you use: “el depredador moderno” and calling your mom a “partera” to the salamanders. Thanks for sharing!

    Like

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