BORGES

Your absence in shadows

will not leave us
bandaged up
wounded through groves

by jacaranda trees

with alpha secrets

entangled in nettles

named by imagination

transfigured by time

ibises in solitary skies

are blindly drawn

from a landscape painter

on the swampy roads

among all exiles

even of the disappeared
in Patagonia

who turn up unexpectedly
on streets and the pampas

as sealed gold dust
parachutes from clouds

to succor every generation.