The Wake
It looks like the sea, the sky where I have lain to dream of you.
—Julia de Burgos, tr. by Blas Falconer
In Francisco Oller’s El Velorio, a child lies
on a table as if sleeping. It is covered in lace
and blossoms, blossoms in what looks like
a boy’s curls, and in the crowded room,
what looks like a roasted boar is pierced
through the crown with a spear. There is no sea
in the window, the open door, only trees
on the hillside, an ox, thatched roofs
in the distance, the sky with its impression
of clouds going where clouds go. One night,
sitting on the curb, I watched a procession
carry a white coffin which must have been
a child’s—that small. I lie down in the dark.
When my son wakes up from a bad dream,
I make room for him on my side of the bed.
Close your eyes, I say. I’m here with you.
Notes:
This poem is part of the portfolio “The Chorus These Poets Create: Twenty Years of Letras Latinas.” You can read the rest of the portfolio in the December 2024 issue.
Source: Poetry (December 2024)