I inhabit the underside of a voice that no longer announces itself,
in a space where time writes in letters of smoke
and the walls revive old family shipwrecks.
I am the one who searches for your motives among the broken glass,
the one who interrogates shadows so that they confess yesterday
or their old alliance with the oblivion that licks our hands.
Watch me advance on an alphabet of embers.
My eyes are full of pauses that don’t give anything back,
only this abyss, this passageway of wind
where you wove the net to catch my hallucinations.
I come from the lights that learned to escape from your eyes,
to decipher the trace of the angel in the soot of the chimneys.
Everything is a rite of absences that touch each other.
If I extend my hands, I say goodbye that has not yet happened;
If I keep silent, your reflections bring me an escaped winter.
I am full of a language that imagines you of light,
trying to open the forbidden words of fire.
I am full of voices that devour your questions
and I am only the echo of a goodbye that died in your mouth,
an unrecognizable face portrayed on empty walls.
