The Messenger

She took the words for a stroll and the words bit the children and the children told their parents and the parents loaded their guns and the words wailed, howled slowly licked their blind wounds until they fell flat on their faces onto the bloody earth and death came then dressed in its Sunday best to stop by the poet’s house and call to him with desperate cries and the poet opened the door not knowing what had happened and he saw death hanging from its shadow and sobbing it told him, “Come with me today we’re in mourning” “Who died,” asked the poet “Well, you,” replied death and death extended its arms to him to offer condolences Translated from the Spanish