By: Teresinka Pereira
I work day and night,
especially at night.
Yesterday the dreams came back
repeating his name in my pulse.
My autistic son complained:
“It is all gone! Everybody is gone!
First my sisters, then my father.
Then came my stepfather
with his old tobacco breath,
his scars of psychological shadows,
and his fears…”
For some time I had a husband
and in the afternoons my children laughing
while I worked happily…
Not today. I have lost both,
my job and my husband.
My son cleans the ivy
from a dark tombstone
and I see the name of a sad poet
banished from this earthly paradise.
I bury his memory
this time
in the flesh of my breast.
………………
