La luna cae.
Colgada un momento
de la rama, espera.
Pero seguirá cayendo
un poco más
en poco tiempo.
Baja
las escaleras
sin prisa.
No lleva cola
aunque la sigue, silenciosa,
otra estela mascota.
Sigue cayendo
bajando
un poquitín distraída.
Se libera poco a poco
de ese abrazo, arañazo
que le ha dado tanta risa.
Cayendo, cayendo.
Bajando, bajando.
Cauta, mansa y lisa.
El cielo purpurea.
Sube la luz
pero suave, de tono.
Es el día, que empieza.
El día que se desparrama
a toque de piulido
mientras esta luna lenta
sigue cayendo, encantada
desmarcada ya
de toda fama.
bajando, bajando
pausada, perfecta.
Y así, el día entra.
Sin apagarla, todavía
el día entra y se asienta
subiendo al trono, sin guía.
*
And so, the moon goes to mush.
She dissolves, diluted in daylight
She fades before dipping in water
She becomes pastels in pink and blue.
Soft
No drama
No marvel
No rush.
*
The sun exited this spot
A few hours ago
Growing sharper, stronger.
Pure fireworks.
She, instead, melts.
She grows fainter
A phantom of gas
Making the sky pale.
It is all milky and quiet
No one watches her go.
While the sun, that old show-off,
had, of course, all the crowds:
the wedding, the selfies, the happy hour
the tacky singers, the fire-dancers
the kissing, the posing,
the ahhhs and the ooohs.
*
The Moon exits, alone.
A guard, stretches, not looking.
The cleaners, are ready to go
and so this beach, this pool, this sunset temple
is empty, blind to her bow.
She likes it this way
and tries ever subtler exits.
Unwatched, it is easier to risk it
And go for unexplainable things.
Why melt, before plunging? Why lose shape?
I won’t tell you. Figure it out yourself.
Just know: she is right.
And she does it very well.
*
