For a feature on Reversible Monuments: Contemporary Mexican Poetry
For the poetry of Eduardo Milan
This poem is reprinted with permission of Copper Canyon Press, coppercanyonpress.org.
Translated by Geoff Hargreaves
The trees are a mane of shaken yellow,
woven from points and silicon, from green clouds.
Glass is broken sands, tags of wind.
Water is light distorting, trembling,
fragmenting shapes like a fragmented mind.
The crystal pool in the shrinking river, stones,
tadpoles dark and jittery,
foot entering water,
pain of cold,
the spread of silt turns milky.
Inside, I shake like an uptight mirror.