Phoenix Waltz-Reasonover
Ninguno de nosotros dice nada.
I wish that I could hear
the silence—a breath,
a whisper in the music—
the holy wait
before the sound.
Ninguno de nosotros dice nada.
Who wants to be the one to break
the sentient silence of grief?
The toys alone bear
witness to fear—
a windowed room
with rifled nannies—
los caimanes esperan;
Ninguno de nosotros dice nada,
even when she asks for questions
and the lake behind
her head springs free
its banks;
the silence holds vigil
para mantener alejados a los caimanes;
Ninguno de nosotros dice nada.
The ground has seen things here.
El caimán roams free
in trucks, and birds
that do not sing or fly
watch silently
sin movimiento;
a hawk belies borders
in quiet testimony.
Ninguno de nosotros dice nada.
Touch the ground,
it’s holy;
the corn raises its head
on the opposite bank
on stalks one story high,
silky husks and sleeping kernels,
juntos pero solito,
the fish wait for the hook,
el caimán está quieto como la Muerte.
Ninguno de nosotros puede hablar.
Thank God for the dog
who leads where we cannot,
¿Quieres tocar al perrito?
Cue the music.
Hay palabras.
