Critique
Every week
A poem for the road
“I’m strong, I drink a lot of milk”
said the little five-year-old boy, stirring
compost
turning this extended steering wheel into a corkscrew
a tool that fits
and allows you to exercise on the earth fed with rubbish
multiple bodybuilder squeezes
next to him a friend of the same age wants to try
they jump at the earthworms and rats that escape from the
lattes with maggots with shells too hard like ingots
in the mud
ivory buttons escaped from a fabric
impromptu shards to get out of there
without cutting yourself
they scream and laugh like in front of a swimming pool where
take a dip
rubbish is hiding places
minefields that are closed with a padlock
once the pile has been dug
as long as they only have this war to laugh about
I don’t wish them any other images
nor any other startles than an ugly earth to stir up a few
minutes
being careful of things that cut –
I only wish them to get hurt
to the ephemeral
Florence Valero
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