Thrombosis
A child I was

when I fell into the abyss

But I did not die

I was very young

when I drowned in the pond

But I did not die

Nowadays one of my habits-God preserve us-

is to knock against scores of land mines

on the frontiers

and for my songs to be dispersed

as the days of my youth are:

here a flower, there a scream

But I do not die!

They slew me upon the threshold

Like the lamb of the feast

-petroleum coagulated in my veins

-in God's name-

Thousands of time they slit my throat

from ear to ear

yet each time my blood would swing

like the feet of a hanged man

and settle like a rose mallow

large and crimson, a mark

to warn ships

and point out the sites of palaces and embassies.

And tomorrow!

-God preserve us!-

A telephone will not ring

in palaces or brothels

or in one of the Gulf Emirates

except to offer a new prescription

for my extermination

But..

Just as the rose mallow tells

and as the frontiers expect

I shall not die!

Shall not die!!

I shall remain a splinter of shrapnel

the size of a penknife

lodged in their necks

I shall remain a blood stain

the size of a cloud

on this world's tunic!.