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Apartamento MAG
Here I sit
for a month at the table
devouring dishes
of sopa,
jamón, huevo,
paella
yet not holding enough room
in my stomach to bear -
No te preocupes, hija.
Yet the hostess worries,
gray eyes clouded
behind wrinkles.
The table sits alone now,
the same red and white checkers
reflecting
fluctuating moods
exasperation and calm
exasperation and
calm
And I sit on a plane wondering
how things would have been
if sentimientos could be translated
into palabras
© Anonymous
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