heaven is not so far
distant from earth,
nor snow so far different
in color from coal;
fan of the past
open with a piss
on hot
coal white in soft
thighs
always if admonished
were the dart
requisite
for turn
drawn out, the boar
saturnine
indolent
statue marked
world fur
redolent of bosky pitch
thrust
from the burrow’s limit
into hunt. world turning
under the dart
a dart through the poles.
yet the boy
pissed on himself,
astonished the goddess
would androgynous
“why if never thought
myself lovely
enough deserving
it there!
further from my hips
standing certain
to have spent life
trailing
then told
someone saw me
up ahead,
oval heart oval earth”
his arms incomplete
(thought himself a lassoer)
are silence
campfire doused black
blood of incest
though history
is a blizzard
and are mystique. sputter
boreal corkscrew
crows
pitch-glide discolor
ensuing what
lanced back through powder
darting tusk
hunt-spun
into groin
anemone death
ammoniac wind
a cinder
Adonis
—
Camilo Roldán is a poet and translator. He is the author of the chapbook Amílkar U., Nadaísta in Translation (These Signals Press) and La Torre (Well Greased Press). His poems have appeared in Quaderna, Sink Review, Aufgabe, [PANK], and elsewhere. He is the editor-in-chief of DIEZ.