The vulture with a piece of red meat in its beak
appeared to be gobbling its own chest.
Her breasts spilled down
over her belly like two snakes.
A yellow dog, hungering love’s
ownerless dog, licked the shadows of the stones.
On the plain an invisible engine whistled,
the angel of everyday mysteries going by,
traveling mysteriously and with no luggage
on the midday train.
Aridjis, Homero. “Antipastoral.” Poemas solares: Solar Poems. Trans. George McWhirter. San Francisco: City Lights Books, 2010. p. 143.