Remedios Ayala

I forgot that each one of you flourishes in May
what must I do? 
I sleep on the right side with a pheasant
that drags his leg in his dream
that sharpens knives and collects wars.
He didn’t even notice me when he went out he said
with cold hands
he got closer leaving it on the floor
five fingers next to the frozen puddle
the bed, the braid, the condolence
but I don’t know you
I’m seated where they will come again
the nose, the shoe, the grins
what must I do?

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