Carlos Soto-Román

Clumsy

Pozo

And in the agglutinant loneliness
of these four walls
I crowned my dreams
                                   like harmful particles
crowned my own awakening
                 among the most touched
at the bottom of the heart
                                  the septic tank

This is the authentic cavern of humanity
This is the shipwreck.

The sun peers out behind the rocks.
My hands and my brow bleed.

The Tell-Tale Heart

Confinement begins with confinement.

Like worms can’t help
but dive in
(like death and roots),
confinement starts at
the moment of the damage.

They say at certain distance underground
it is possible to hear all
the rumors of the world.
Which are just like heartbeats, almost imperceptible
which become from one moment to another
like an exasperating thunder.

They say the humidity
is part of the charm
and sometimes suffocates,
like the restrained sadness
that comes from the impossibility
of seeing your own face
in the mirror.

STICSA

Carlos Soto-Román. Poet & translator. Lives in Santiago, Chile.