This next one is titled "Saudade."
And it's a Portuguese word that many say
has no real translation.
And so this poem is an attempt to do that.
"In the republic of flowers, I studied
the secrets of hanging clothes.
I didn't know if it was raining or someone was frying eggs.
I held the skulls of words that mean nothing.
You left between the hour of the ox and the hour of the rat.
I heard the sound of two braids.
I watched it rain through a mirror.
Am I asking to be spared or am I asking to be spread?
Your body smelled like cathedrals,
and I kept your photo in a bottle of mescal,
semen-salt wolf's teeth.
You should have touched my eyes until they blistered,
kissed the skin of my instep.
For thousands of years, sealed honey never
spoils, won't crystallize.
I saw myself snapping a swan's neck.
I needed to air out my eyes, the droplets on a spider
web in the grace they held, who gave me permission
to be this person to drag my misfortune on this leash made
of gold."
[APPLAUSE]