Totem I

In between
totem and
automaton,
a mannequin’s
twirl,
chips of time
invisible
golden threads
pull you towards
the sacred forests of the Druids. From the millenary rowans,
the mistletoe reaches your limbs, it becomes resin and ritual
to chase death away. In between
totem and automaton the propitious door
to change one’s angel, the Giant
of Cerne Abbas lying on Dorset’s
hillside, the statues of Rapa
Nui, guarding Easter Island,
the silhouetted bodies sheltered
by the rocks, the childhood
puppets and the cave, and the robots
that learn to look at you. In between totem
and automaton the scarecrow
crucified in the immensity
of the wheat fields, the one that always waits for you
where everything is modeled by the wind
and your little girl’s steps do not vanish,
your icon and your hideout and your burrow.

Translated by Luis Correa-Díaz e Irene Gómez-Castellano