The Black Cat Constellation / Héctor Carreto
This poetry book is like a black cat that dances around on the rooftop, it summons colors from some movie stars, licks little sensations left on the pavement of some Downtown streets and goes back home to cuddle on your soul. —Lucía Izquierdo
THE STUNTMAN
As I drink coffee and go through the morning papers
the other ties my tie
and he goes out to fulfill my routine.
To be clear:
I’m not exposing my subconscious
nor do I use rhetoric
or metaphysical tricks:
Like in the movies
I pay a stuntman
to grow old behind the windows
so that they assault him in the subway tunnels
so that he smiles when being despised
and answers submissively
when the giants call out my name.
At night he is accountable to me.
He always looks overwhelmed
and never seems satisfied with his pay.
His eyes
haunt me with anger
and then a deep fear invades me
that things will change
that suddenly a hand
will reverse the roles.
