Trust

by Reina Maria Rodriguez (Cuba)
translated by Kristin Dykstra

The mahogany desk was swelling with termites
(like the piano),
the bones turning
brittle as they sank:
“The writer’s existence really depends
on a desk,” said Kafka.
I lost my desk many years ago.

The existence of music depends
on an instrument too:
“. . . We’ve got no music, we’ve got rain,”
he kept on shouting.
We’ve got no love letters
in that rounded “o” of
incorruptible desire,
its finishes assonated
by the woman who used to walk,
who used to play the piano,
who used to
trust.

from El piano, 2017