Ways of having an angel
An angel is the spiritual bodyguard
that protects us from material,
supernatural enemies, and those
we engender with images,
words and dreams: he fights, at midnight,
in the middle of the street,
and in bed, against odious figures,
figures that we tend to love.
People say: an angel passed through here,
when there is silence among them,
united in one body: while our angels wait
they look at each other in the mirror
or stare out the window
at the long yellow afternoon.
Lovers say: an angel just walked by,
as if the presence of the desired one
had the body of absence,
as if it could perceive what had already happened,
and they knew they loved when they no longer love.
An angel passed, says the angel,
without seeing his own shadow in time,
without perceiving the longing
his words left within,
men of flesh and blood,
looking from the other side of the window,
drunk with love and death.
She’s got angel, they say
about the woman whose grace
cannot be measured, one cannot count
the light in her eyes, or calculate
the size of her smile, even less,
we cannot weigh her footprint
when she walks.
I’ve got angel, says the dying man
searching for a partner to lead him through
his personal abysms. I’ve got angel, says
the one that dies, at long last visible—the one
who guarded me in life. I have angel, I exclaim
when I raise my being unto his being,
as if we had always walked together.
He’s got angel, says another angel,
looking through the window
as we lose sight of each other
in the yellow afternoon.