Antipoema

Once upon a time
A poem sat in a chair
And a lamp was lit
Shining for the poor guy on the corner;
And a melon,
A melon feeling down
With issues of collective conscience;
Life was selective in the office
-the boss said-
Because here the strongest wins,
Not the tallest, nor the fittest.
I can spot them
At first glance, I can tell them apart
This isn’t a cow worth caring about
And it’s urgent to structure, coordinate
And starch the brains
Of the people who progress;
As I said, this office
Will be the field of the strongest.
We looked at each other through our glasses
Eyes fixed on the ground
And the comb in our hair,
A comb given by the manager
For all those years of service, so many years,
So many combs you have.
I should’ve swallowed the gum
Because soon a siren
Landed on the rooftop, they covered me and in white
They took me away in a car driven by dragons
And the colorful clouds foretold
A beautiful Christmas Eve.
The threatening doctor pointed
With his most disdainful finger and declared;
Well, we’re losing the idiot
Who swallowed five pesetas of gum,
His guts got stuck
And when we opened him up we found
Change in his belly,
Pens, erasers, and quirks.
I know the boss has come
With his flower crown
And my shadow strolls through the yard
With a lit candle and a pencil.
It writes on the glass desolate poems,
Prayers to Saint Gemma and fresh water
That flows cool today from the rooftop.
Today it’s wayward waters, waters of bad stock,
Water that was never drunk, that wasn’t allowed to flow,
Water, that you shall not drink.