Читать книгу Vida en marte - Tracy K. Smith - Страница 15

The universe is expanding. Look: postcards

And panties, bottles with lipstick on the rim,

Orphan socks and napkins dried into knots.

Quickly, wordlessly, all of it whisked into file

With radio waves from a generation ago

Drifting to the edge of what doesn’t end,

Like the air inside a balloon. Is it bright?

Will our eyes crimp shut? Is it molten, atomic,

A conflagration of suns? It sounds like the kind of party

Your neighbors forget to invite you to: bass throbbing

Through walls, and everyone thudding around drunk

On the roof. We grind lenses to an impossible strength,

Point them toward the future, and dream of beings

We’ll welcome with indefatigable hospitality:

How marvelous you’ve come! We won’t flinch

At the pinprick mouths, the nubbin limbs. We’ll rise,

Gracile, robust. Mi casa es su casa. Never more sincere.

Seeing us, they’ll know exactly what we mean.

Of course, it’s ours. If it’s anyone’s, it’s ours.