The city sweeps me,It's scary, watching how quickly this kind of language and form come to her. Scary in a good way, that is. The only problem is that I now have the task of helping her translate it into Spanish. Anybody know whether "pancake sun" will make sense?
the silver windows of its teeth flashing,
soaring through the clouds,
to a smooth, stone finger,
the obelisk,
pointing to a lost object,
not seen or heard,
past restaurants packed with
steaming steak,
through the Biblioteca Nacional
with dusty books
bursting with knowledge,
and still we pass,
a final dip,
a bow,
and the pancake sun
drips
butter on my velvet gown,
bleaching it into morning.
A Tango With Buenos Aires
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