By Dolores Valentino
puntana writer, residing in Juana Koslay
The heart was left naked, alone,
floating in space
when you left.
Palpitating in the flight of the
passing bird.
Leaving your heart
hollowed out with pain
where a flower had nested.
Sunrise, instead,
invited it to lie down on its bed
of white poppies.
While suspended on tiny
silver tears
it broke in abandonment.
Sick of solitude, the hapless heart left,
Muted,
among the dark entrails of the night
with the blue petals of love."Translated by Matilde Machiavello"
