Thursday, July 7, 2011

Hunter of the Llano




                       In my dream a helicopter like a mechanical

pterodactyl swooped down and carried me.

I  recognized the Finca de San Martin below

and surrounding hills now churning red mud

time flew and then stopped when I saw

you limping past me without a word.

And like Lot’s wife I turned to salt

By this act you undid everything and nothing.

The endless sky of the llano, azure like no other,

The resolve of the hunter stalking the jaguar

for days and silently in turn being stalked by him.

The din of cicadas at dusk , the nightly cry of the jabali

the  taste of the mamey, the emerald of the colibri

the viper held tender in your hand .

Everything you brought from the llano stayed.

my sacred tones  held fast as ballast,

all came to me as I descended into that mud

all but your name.


                                                                                                                                                                                  Antonia Baranov

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