Loneliness has a house of its own.
Each day brings a flock of dust
makes a nest in your living room;
Layer upon layer.
Mundane affairs accumulate twig upon twig
and you forget to pick up a broom.
You settle down on the hardened sofa.
Pay rent month by month
for the unperturbed silence
listening to the symphony of a deaf Beethoven.
O' girl with vitreous teeth !
as you entered shattering the windowpane
and declared triumphantly
This garbage bin must be changed, el pronto.
I am worried about the numerous birds
and their unhatched/half-hatched eggs
laid upon every nook and corner of the house
that has been feeding on me.
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