A memoria embotellada

Houbo un tremendo eclipse,
atopámonos de fronte con el.
Comeunos as entrañas.
A crítica enaltecida que atoparamos nos xornais
o tempo perdido escribindo,
versos esquecidos,
fixeron mella en nós.
Aquel tren que saiu da vía,
e non voltou a nós.
Para,
e estóupame o corazón.
Foron tantos anos de silencio os que marchaches.
O abandono, a pena e a ficción convertéronse,
naquela ferinte tradición.

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