Insights


Everybody knows that Mexico 
is an invented country.

I will leave 
when everyone's asleep

when the grass stands 
still and yellow,

when no bird's song calls
me back,

when the last hail
peels the last tree.

Mexico waits for me.
My suitcase is packed.

I will leave at dawn,
in the hour of executions.

I will leave when I can
open this door 

from the inside,
when I can hear

the applause from the walls,
when I have numbered my steps.

Mexico is waiting.