paginas sin numerar by ron ostrander

(Puerto Vallarta - Febrero 2019)
 
beneath high-ceiling sepia traces
of decades of summer rain
 
behind drapes drawn heavy with dust
the velvet tatters of winter
 
from an antique framed mirror
she turns away at last
 
this white-haired woman, to hum
her comrade song into a silence frayed
by shimmering fractals of melody
 
her hibiscus-red silk housecoat
rumpled sheets on an unmade bed
 
midday coffee and bleak lament
for the last revolution lost
 
in a history of unnumbered pages
too many, or too few, to count