You get confused when you see
your face in the mirror
A fragment of the past is not dead
You thought it was out.
It turned clay into the muscle memory
although a faint impression
Remains embedded in an orange bubble.
The sky seems to bring it with its storms
Makes the eyes of a crow glitter white.
Appears at a time would never be
In an unexpected street,
Comes as a pebble of crystals.
You sleep, the fragment doesn’t rest,
It is anchored in you.
Do not be frightened when you look in the mirror.
You will see it red, violet, blue
The point is to punch and watch it not to return to you,
looping in an unknown direction,
things will remain silent,
careful with becoming.
-By Eduardo Escalante of Chile