Start writing for free on quadernoYuliana Davico
Trinan sin trino.
Simulan soplo.
Nada suena,
pero todo vibra.
Flauta de caña,
caña sin río.
Lengua hueca,
ritmo vestido.
Tac- tac- tac:
el cuerpo borda el compás
como si fuera cierto.
No hay música:
hay forma.
No hay centro:
hay giro.
Un paso repite al otro
hasta que el adorno cansa.
Entonces-
entra el silencio
vestido de caramelo.
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