28/03/1906 / veins 3-76
CRISTINA HUERTA,
POEM
Seven
I Take my hand, stone
asymmetric
full of passion,
my hand, take
scars.
II
Enseñoréate of my eyes, lethargic
of a restless,
ready to swing in the line of bird
just convened.
III
Get lost in the boundless space between your hand and my eyes, my eyes
and firmness of your hand, lost
the time you spend serving the idea and Aset
the lightness of mind that I missed the man and you,
the width of the mold that covers me and I regained
asphalt crown me.
IV
Enervated what was hard,
the essence of things wasted.
V
mediatinta Conch and lame your eyes, absorb
your hands, you
flavored coffee bath martyr
the sinews of my tongue pours smoothness
on the marble cracking.
VI
agrees I always ignored,
becomes what you know best.
VII Feel free,
and not bet the imperative, feel free
,
already knew,
'm all ears and skull, obsequiousness
regained,
lost.
Cristina Huerta (pictured above, right.) Is a very young writer belonging to the generation of new millennium. She has written stories and poems of undeniable literary quality, some of which have already been inserted in previous editions of this magazine. She studies the career of filmmaking at the Universidad Autonoma de Santo Domingo. We wish her great contributions to Dominican literature.
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