El Salmón de Fabian Casas tres poemas por Edwin Latchford,

Without keys and in the dark


It was one of those days where everything goes well

I had cleaned the house and written

two or three poems that I liked.


I couldn't have asked for more.


Then I went out of the corridor to take out the garbage

and behind me, caught by a gust of wind,

the door slammed shut.


I was left without keys and in the dark

hearing the nieghbours voices

through their doors.

It's transitory, I told myself;

but this is also what death could be like:

A dark corridor,

a closed door with the key inside

the rubbish in your hand.





Alarm


During the night

a factory alarm goes off

near my house.

While I smoke,

I wonder if it will be a mistake,

a burglary,

Or something exclusively for me.



You wake up


You wake up in the middle of the night

And look at the other side of your bed

At your woman crying

It’s an important experience.

That is to say, amongst other things,

That while you travelled through the illuminated

rooms of your mind

Something has been gestating close to you

A mistake with which you maintain

a particularly intimate relationship.



Because although we don’t sign anything

Nor run hurriedly under a shower of rice

We think that this is for life

And this is how we keep going.



Boats, that during the night,

Remain tied to the dock,

Crashing into each other,

According to the wind.