Leo Falls to Earth
- Aguilar Saucillo
- 3 oct
- 1 Min. de lectura
Noël Valis
I nailed the sign to the wall: “SPARROW, go home.” Take the ell, take the dark. Just go. The sign hangs all night, like the opposite of music, riffed skin and arms full of amens. What is the opposite of music? In what prison can I cage its song. A sparrow is flapping in my brain, like the paranoia of wings.
This one keeps coming back. Does it think I am a nest? Brother Leo’s tattered blanky? A piecrust of birddreams with tiny crows feet? Now a patch of snotted blue, it barely covers the thirty years of his hard, dead knees.
His sparrow climbed the air. The air that once stood still as his cessna dropped like strange fruit, rooted in flames. His skin of ash, his mouth a prayer, his heart burst figs. His life, weirdly flown. And the opposite of music.
Noël Valis es profesora en la Universidad de Yale. Es la autora de Lorca After Life, el volumen editado Teaching Representations of the Spanish Civil War, la novela corta The Labor of Longing, el libro de poemas Mi casa me recuerda/My House Remembers Me, así como traducciones de poetas Españoles como Pedro Salinas, María Zambrano, Julia Uceda, y otros libros.