Raúl Gómez Jattin

And Going

There’s an afternoon stranded along a river
and between them a boy sings
swaying in his bejuco vine rocking chair
This afternoon
The sun’s golden egg nestles among the mangos of the shore
The river is an iridescent glass caterpillar
The wind spreads wings of violet clouds
This is an afternoon fastened to the bend of a time
coming and going with the rocking chair
It’s made of memories and desires
for I know the name of this river
and I saw the boy almost a man
in a filmmaker’s nightfall
The body of this afternoon
is a stiff liquid part future and past
that like an instant spiraling shell
congeals in a few places of my anguish

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