~ “Caminos Tortuosos,” Remedios Varo (1957)

From decade to decade, I cycle
veiled in my secret griefs—
Do you see the little blades

and how they pushed the heart
out of its chest? Once I was
feathered and bright, once

I was dragonfly wings laid over
the heated surface of a lake.
What vessel for water

flung as weapon
from a burnished throat?
Who’ll dress the wounds

that spiral around the wrists?
Following the smell of ripened
fruit I knocked on door after door

in the countryside. I wanted
to offer a song I could still remember
beneath the roof of a beautiful tree.

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