I’m going to take advantage of the full moon in Leo, and the fact that I cut my hair,
to say goodbye to you.
I don’t practice the cynicism of Antisthenes or Diogenes;
more than once I have offered empty words. To you never.
Five springs ago I planted your memory in a tree that dried out,
and I am responsible for that;
in search of privacy to speak with you,
I planted you far from the others.
I’m going to join the sect of the dogs,
to live present in the present:
“ready to bare my teeth, but with a warm gaze.”
I’m going to let you go, because at some point
the living must rest from the dead.
Photography by Ana Valeria Nolasco Infante
Editor, ceramicist, and gardener. I write so as not to complicate myself.