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seal my pact with you.
Sink your blue arms
through the arc of my mouth,
spill like a river
through the brackish galleries of my body, arrive
like a thief, like that one
upon whose brow they suddenly print
the burning impact of good fortune,
like one who can no longer hide magnificent news
beneath the overcoat and wants to laugh alone,
and there is the love that sloshes head to toe
and tinges everything,
and there is not a soul who sees it and doesn’t want
to kiss her palms two times.
Life: loom within my flesh, in the marine
labyrinth of my core,
and care with irrepressible rapture
for this infinitesimal child
plotted by the crossing of fire of two sexes.
For him I must break my heart in two
to cover his diminutive soles.
Life: place over his head at the height of a bird
the roof of your hand. Never abandon
this cub of man who looks at you
from the silvery dream of his pot of moon.
Place, with wild lightness, your inaugural kiss
on those ribs of a toy walnut ship. Don’t abandon him,
he is your earthly animal, the fistful of feathers
where the wind splits.
Life: welcome this being
who fits within a peach.
In his name I name you his godmother.
I raise up my womb for you.
Life: open your arms.

Ana Istarú
English Translation: Antlanta Review

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