I’M LEFT WITH YOUR VOICE

I have a wound that I never touch that has not healed and sometimes cries a folder and inside of it dozens of programs voices and among them your voice, tender, shy your voice and its strength

I took each one I cut it, I cleaned it, I put it to dry I left them as good as new

I looked at them, I gave them a name I asked them questions and they answered me now they are singing and among their voices yours, serene your voice, like a kitchen knife always cuts me fine you leave me smiling while I bleed to death there they are and they sing though no one can hear them I haven't opened their cages nor have I taken them out into the street

I'm afraid they'll fly away and go away go south they stand and sing at your window

Fernando Salas

and as soon as you hear them you know where they come from and how they got there who let them out and when you know don't do anything so I have them with me from time to time they sing and while I cry I tremble and I don't understand

I caress them, I hear your voice like the rim of a broken glass and I don't understand

Only once you made me empty promises because I asked you to I still don't understand but I hear them sing and one day I will open their cages and the door to the street and I will break the windows and the glasses and the mirrors and the leaves that bear your handwriting which is all I have left