I dreamed that you were reading my palm,
in the same cotton shirt I last saw you in
and with the same unlined face.
And I don’t remember what predictions you made
(ah yes, something about twins),
but the warmth of your fingers —
so true it somehow broke the waters
and I woke with it on my fingertips,
still vivid with static.
Laura Chalar (born 1976) Uruguay
Translated by the author
Source: Interim Vol 33, Issue 1
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