BY PABLO ORTEGA.
They warn us that it is dangerous to be outside.
The city hides itself. It sweats a filmic cemetery.
An abandoned city
to the fear of being hit by a hailstone in the head.
The full of oil pans plunge into the outside.
The enraged trees cluck their songs of themselves.
The grass gets soaked, the puddles get bigger, we become ocean.
Whales emerge. Gigantic blue whales that in Silence shine.
On their backs, we are transported to Earth’s last island.
We dock. Our bodies tremble without oxygen.
Violently, they are thrown away.
A spine broker speed bump breaks the purring of the express bus.
The noise of a bell reminds us of the bus stop.
Walking we go outside the bus.
Pablo Ortega was born in Santiago de Chile in 1987. Writing poetry mainly related to city nature and the experience of community, he has a B.A. in English Language and Literature in Universidad de Chile and was part of the Neruda Foundation Internship (2015). Last year, he coordinated a creative writing workshop for Spanish-speaking people in Cologne, Germany, and we published a collective book called Extraños extrañan (Pornos). Currently, he lives in Chile.