I went upstairs to watch it move. I kept it there under some clothes in a small box. It felt so warm when I held it. Then I dropped it. It didn't move for a long time, and the next day when I touched it it felt funny. It wouldn't crawl. It wasn't warm. Something was bad inside. I knew it wasn't mine the way it was. It's still up there. I don't want it because it's cold. I won't go near. I stay downstairs. It's warm down here, and I'm happy.
First Edition Translation of Teselas by Carmen Crespo X111 César Simón Poetry Prixe 2016 Translated from Spanish by Robin Ouzman Hislop and Amparo Arrospíde
In the Whirlwind is a poetic storm that frees history from the cages of corruption and puts it in the hands of everyday people. Words are weaved into a new fashion statement that has nothing to do with runways but everything to do with projects!
good write