A chair
a carbon copy of a chair
in this instant void of presence
a mirroring echo
your solitude
you gaze on persons absent, not things
you listen for a whisper in the dark
a moon sits on a chair
you are watching that reflection
in an instant suspended in no time
like a Schrodinger´s cat
you are vanishing
**
Your vanishing might be an act of faith
what then is your awakening to this side
where things recover their temperatures
molecules, particles and atoms
their specific weight,
you are petrified in time
no wonder you prefer the other side
**
No musician has come to awake you
no unspoken words of a charm
silence knows how to weave the cobweb
of your slumber
if you would only let me breathe gently
on that side of the whisper
to tenderly lie by your side
Amparo Arrospide (Argentina) is a Spanish writer and translator. She has published four poetry collections Mosaicos bajo la hiedra, Alucinación en dos actos y algunos poemas, Pañuelos de usar y tirar and Presencia en el Misterio as well as poems, short stories and articles on literary and film criticism in anthologies and both national and foreign magazines, such as Cuadernos del Matemático, Cuadernos Hispanoamericanos, Linden Lane Magazine, Espéculo, Piedra del Molino, Nayagua. She has received awards. Together with Robin Ouzman Hislop, she worked as co-editor of Poetry Life and Times, a webzine, and coordinated the Spanish sonnets section for the international anthology The Phoenix Rising from the Ashes (ed. Richard Vallance, 2014).