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.