Gifts

I offer you a sign
what the sea does not
devour
algae dressed as indolent
and secretive women
a seashell that rests its mother-of-pearl
ears upon the damp sand,
I want you to hear it,
I want you to recognize each one of its
invisible sounds
I want you to understand
the wind that rests in it
and loves

amazing astonishing
starfish also
rest on the imaginary country of the sand

I make you a gift of my time and my laughter
so you will burst with that gratuitous
joy
joy of gestures like a luminous ring
joy of the brilliance
of a summer day
when the sea performs its mysterious ceremonies

I offer you my voice
and my silence
so you will not confuse it
with the multitude
so you will distinguish me
among so many others
voice like your asylum
voice like a bay which
in the distance gently sways
welcoming you
voice of illuminated
firefly

Because love demands
the subtleties of recognition
the quiet haven of a body
image of another body
but always uniquely singular
distracted imprecise
reminder

Come to my body
as though you might meet a country
governed by the rhythm of women
where the nights do not devour either children
or stories
but are tales in the torn heart of the moon

Come to my body that
does not long for power or borders
a body that does not return from any war
that does not hesitate faced with a caress
that is round
that weaves fabrics
children
secrets like the ochre color of the earth
like the calypso of enchantments

Here I carve out a paradise among the
seeds
that germinate in the open palms
of my hands