We live in secret cities And we travel unmapped roads. We speak words between us that we recognize But which cannot be looked up. They are our words. They come from very far inside our mouths. You and I, we are the secret citizens of the city Inside us, and inside us There go all the cars we have driven And seen, there are all the people We know and have known, there Are all the places that are But which used to be as well. This is where They went. They did not disappear. We each take a piece Through the eye and through the ear. It's loud inside us, in there, and when we speak In the outside world We have to hope that some of that sound Does not come out, that an arm Not reach out In place of the tongue.
Alberto Ríos - 1952-
Teodoro Luna's Two Kisses
Mr. Teodoro Luna in his later years had taken to kissing His wife Not so much with his lips as with his brows. This is not to say he put his forehead Against her mouth— Rather, he would lift his eyebrows, once, quickly: Not so vigorously he might be confused with the villain Famous in the theaters, but not so little as to be thought A slight movement, one of accident. This way He kissed her Often and quietly, across tables and through doorways, Sometimes in photographs, and so through the years themselves. This was his passion, that only she might see. The chance He might feel some movement on her lips Toward laughter.