this poem is special Sunday. I wrote it seven years ago, in 2004, walking through the rainforest of Braulio Carrillo, near San Jose. Both time and books later, I return to the same scenario, but now accompanied by the poetic subject.
From Costa Rica, with love
J.
RAINFOREST A blue green
sacrifice
the harsh awareness of a flame.
Break a leaf fall from heaven
a tremor on the roof.
Who can build your body now
the delicacy of a fern
enormous within an outline of water and needle
mathematics and feverish. There
rain they do not find in other rains
skin and leave us without coverage, cafés
licking
torsos and we mark the footprint of a mattress.
If you could look at such beauty,
know I see your eyes that you're
also
accurate and frail, immodest
constant in the woods, hanging lazy
fingers tasty as the fruit of a pod, mourners
flesh without breaking open. There is a seed
incontestable,
a creaking noise, almost prominence
air and staffed resonant
with wise skill of a thumb. Aparto
caress
palm and splashed Bocaracá burning lip.
night and day are snakes, spiders
throbbing inside
if a cow's tongue in your belly comes under a moss
sharp sugar. There
red butterfly wings on your spill
open without routine.
If the gel hardens the vine, a channel
fine in the hair will
do not eat the crust.
A wounded animal in the forest
easy prey for you.
Lying in a kiss
tarantula stopped and waiting anxiously and
in red velvet on hand to tame your explosion
exorbitant:
are almost the jungle, almost mute, almost sea
almost transparent.
Owned The red jersey (Visor, 2006)
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