Percontation
« Mais où sont les neiges d'antan! » -François Villon
What of the wavering canebrake,
the plantations caressed by unseen
hands؟ Who will limn the graves
with wood squill and suet؟
What figmented rancor؟
What marble plinths؟
What plenary rhotacism؟
Who will honor the heirloom,
the sepia portraiture؟
Who would sanctify the handshake,
the liaison, the bloodied truncheon؟
How will they siphon the lowlands,
the llanos, the pampas؟
Who plays the cajón؟
Who plucks the lucama؟
Who was able to flee؟
Where are the desaparecidos of yesteryear؟
