Al Qabri Ramos

 To Jorge Santiago 

(Roger on the poem: To an Old Man)

 

Put the piano in the poem and tear it out of it

And you are and D and Fa sharps

and let him groan with you. Whip him.

Let him cry the wrinkles, the sulks

The portrayals of longing, horniness and virility

and the vanity of poets.

Go, punish him, turn his back to the wall

It removes any ounce of living nature, any green. 

And if need be, disown him,

It tramples on it, deconstructs the pain of time 

and of any regret. Remove

Silicones and botox, nail polish and eyeshadow.

Undress him in public and give him a beating.

And even if you embarrass yourself in the mirror

through the white hairs of the poem, 

through the prosthesis

Never call him old or make fun of him.

It will always have a lamiré, a B flat to give you

 in the darkest moments

(the ego making fun of your face).

'Cause the time the carcass is made, it goes on

to be man's best invention to separate the deeds 

and transform them into shapes.

(from sonnets in haiku, but don't fall)