It [rains/is raining] on your [clear/light/‘not-brown’] eyes.

A photo in [the] Plaza de Mayo, a column

of faces [marks out/leads/paves] the way.

My father looks at you

and turns his back.

 

([The/my/his] diaphragm was contracting

and opening, like waking

from an old dream).

 

[Nothing/swims]. Among [photos/stills], dad [nothing/swims] and I

8 years old [de rigueur/toughness/precision], I see on my knees

my name in you.

 

From the square separates me

a translucent wall, a [mattress/buffer]

noise. Here inside, your name and me,

[the/our] voices [that] silenced [us].

 

The dome opens above us

on Cathedral’s gasp[ing]:

there it is, the image [that’s] [missing/needed]

 

and in waves

returns faraway the vibration, the [crowd/multitude]

the footsteps, shouts, [encounters/meetings]. A [tide/swell/upsurge]

in your eyes, those of my father.