Venice masks

Saturday, 29 August 2020

The Bird of Hope - Luis Enrique Belmonte

They marked the door with knife stabs,
belched out our names,
      spit on the mailboxes,
threw sulfur in the garden.

But we, we wove the blankets. We were singing at a whisper, in the dark.

Pale,
      bathed in dust,
we kept scraping the floor.

Inside there was a bird that shivered
injured, blind, soaked.

Luis Enrique Belmonte (born 1971) Venezuela
Translated by Guillermo Parra
Source: Typo Issue 18

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