Antonio Justel Rodriguez



Carlitooosss, Carlooosss ...!
still, it's still my mother from the window:
sudden widow and cleanser of mucus and filth of all kind and shank,
that was her, that was my mother;
... if she did not know that she burned her breath and also her hands and her life to raise me,
If I did not have the certainty that the body's gale was ripped from the soul
to have me between her eyes,
 Today, constantly and thundering at me, this voice would not come out from within telling me:
Cain, Cain, what have you done with your mother ...!
"... you will go to school, to the best, and you will be a lawyer," she told me, taking my hand,
crying, breaking and falling when we returned from my father's funeral;
... and what a shame,
what a colorful and death worm touched me on the shoulder when I was a lawyer,
in what swamp of oblivion did I submerge my brilliant triumph with the law
and usurped my hours of illusory brilliance,
what a delusion Great God! what a vile betrayal, what a calamity and what, what a black warp!
... I tremble and burn in cold, in fear and loneliness, I am dying, mother;
 ... do you remember ? on that green and checkered rubber gurney,
hand in hand we played Parcheesi and ladies on Sunday afternoons;
I love you, I love you and I will love you always, always, mother!
And yet go on, go on and on where you are and don't look out:
now, on Sundays, they don't come, they don't exist;
And, furthermore, if they kill us, among this lumpen of mine we don't give it importance;
no, don't come mother, don't come,
don't look out the window
do not come or call me, mother, do not want to see me,
no, don't show up, don't ever come back.
Antonio Justel Rodriguez

All rights belong to its author. It was published on by demand of Antonio Justel Rodriguez.
Published on on 04/13/2021.


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