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Ethan has nowhere to go
by Vera Lucia Pinto

Recordó que no estaba allí
parecía imposible salvarse.
Un avión penetran el cielo con violencia
dejando vestigios de nubes polvo.
El sol era una especie de sombra que lo lamia
abriendo con esplendor adusto y metálico
sobre el concreto en la tierra ya distante
le hacia ver las ojeras muy juntas
como un accidente,
como los mapas se apropian de las personas
desasosiego constante del clima
la cierta bruma de escapar.

El vecindario quedo congelado.
Allí recordó la pequeña nube mutar
sabiendo que algo se gestaba para estremecerle.
Sintió el cuerpo incomodo y laxo
un hacha metafísica corta la respiración
su estomago trazaba líneas
como un flash romántico sobre el hastío.

De espaldas a "Ethan"
una ráfaga de pájaros apuntan sus flechas
¿que era realmente el recuerdo?
¿eran las heridas sublimadas de las comisuras equidistantes?
El sonido denso y Ethan visitando su ausencia
lo envolvían en un gran abrazo
toda la sangre de su cuerpo le irradio, amplificándose.
La luna oculta entre la inocencia de ser sombrío
lo husmea decorosa encogiéndose al tomar espacio,
rugiendo detrás de el
como la lengua afilada de la ola
toca entre las luces y el buzón perpetuo y curvo
ya marginado fuera de la cerca
contra el pecho radiante del sol,
se congregaron los puñales en su rostro.
Entre cerro los ojos dejándolos caer tan pesados como gotas.
Sus manos cobardes y tercas sienten estar leves
sobre los brillantes manubrios de su bicicleta
como una aparición veloz, remota y entrañable.


"Ethan Has Nowhere To Go" was a short story written by Jeremy Hight. It was about to be published when he pulled it. It will never be published. These solicited works are Ethan. These works are the story.

The text exists only to be used as a nameless trigger, as a bit of back end, like HTML code.


Vera Lucia Pinto was born in Mérida, Venezuela in 1988. She became interested in literature and writing at an early age. She is a poet, artist and journalist.


Vera says, "Two moments in 'Ethan has nowhere to go' hit me especially hard. What was the night of running away like? I also morbidly wanted to see his old pain opening again as he returned home; I wanted to imagine his pain as he returned 'home' and the parallel ruins of memory. I wrote two poems for each of the story's two parts and used the cut up method to join them."



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