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“A meeting point for poets of all latitudes”
— VĂ­ctor Rodríguez Núñez

Tony Curtis, from folk

Two Faces by a Window

In all the years
I've been going to asylums
I've never once seen a white coat.
Though there was that time
young Lisa, inside
for smothering her baby,
then slitting her own wrists,
asked if next time I was in church
I would light a candle
for the infant.

I told her I didn't go
to church, but I would.
And I remember, as we sat there,
two faces by a window
lost in the ruins
of a spent conversation,
the grass outside
was covered in snowdrops,
a thousand white coats
trying to save us from ourselves.