Soledad
Nestled on a branch, open
pain
image of the dark path.
be back on hunger death
evacuating the message and look.
In the wake of languid dream not in the habit of forgiveness
rises, bearing in his corner
minutes, alone.
never know the exact whereabouts of
laughter and whispering in the back of the classroom.
Where is my pack of stars?
Where the nipple of hope? Where
that garden and my mother? Rossana Arellano
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