At the end of the day
it was not shame
that brought me
to my knees
It was the smell of mustard seeds
It was the oily song of the paracetamol
The elaborate hoax of sparkling water
Pablo Damián Pérez (August 22, 1987) is a poet and translator currently living in Buenos Aires, Argentina.
We forgot to turn off the gas in the kitchen again,
and I’m not sure if what I saw was a ghost
or a spiritual residue of our old cleaning lady.
Back then, my days were like stretch marks on the skin of time,
I spent most afternoons thinking about a litany
for dust and glass and light,
or about how water is the opposite of blackmail
but ultimately failing at a single original thought.
From behind the drapes, the hollow voice spoke up:
“All microwaves have some kind of terrible hex on them”
I just nodded.
It’s uncourteous to speak with your mouth full.
Pablo Damián is a poet and translator currently living in Buenos Aires, Argentina.
Art: Brendon Thompson