We present this work in honor of Argentine Independence Day.
Against a wind that breaks,
some are suspended by a thread over earth
that meets no boundary;
in some remote Orient
others will pierce a bone
and through the cavity they will look at what is born and dies;
here the eyelids lick each other,
the thighs bite each other, between one light
from above and another from below.
Tomorrow, perhaps, they will try out gas masks,
they will draw chalk lines
to separate desire from logic;
tomorrow, perhaps, they may weep
and do their clothes up tight
to plunge once more into darkness;
but now, they swing embraced
and naked, placed in such a way
that they look like birds made only of veins;
by their action, even though ephemeral,
the beasts slough their skin,
red tears fall into the sea
and burn it.