Poesia kaiera
Seigarren salmoa
Amerika kale maiztu gabean, margotu gabeko atarian
kulunkatzen den emakumea da.
Baina Annek ez du ikusten.
Amerika Wichitako liburuzain bat da, hautsa eztulka,
postariarekin litxarreriak partekatzen.
Amerika Abraham doktorea da Woolrich, Pennsylvaniako hiritarrei
penizilina eta azukre pilulak banatzen.
Amerika, Albion, Michiganen oinak garbitzen dituen
gizon zaharra da. Arretaz lehortzen ditu gero,
Scholl-doktorearen-oinetako-hautsarekin igurzteko.
Baina Annek ez du ikusten. Anne giltzapean dago.
Amerika lapur gizarteratua da, sarrailagile orain,
dendako ateak bederatzietan zabaltzen goizero
(igandeetan salbu; igandeetan, dendako atean zintzilik
jartzen du bere telefono zenbakia, behar izanez gero).
Amerika emakume gizen bat da English Creek, New Jerseyn,
piano ikaragarri bati hautsak kentzen.
Amerika antezko eskularru ekoizlea da
aulki birakarian eserita, salgaiak azalean sentitu eta
bere zorrak eta aktiboak zenbatzen.
Amerika autobus gidaria da Embarrass, Minnesotan,
errepideari su eman eta kartoizko maleta ttipien joan-etorriari so.
Amerika Komunista eta Debekatzaileen lurraldea da.
Baina Annek ez du hori ikusten. Anne giltzapean dago.
Troskistek ere ez dute bera ikusten. Errepublikarrek ez diote sekula kokotsa atximurkatu, bera ez dagoelako inoiz han. Anne barruan ezkutatzen da,
arrosak arrosen atzetik zabaldu eta tolesten. Berak ez dauka inor.
Berak Christopher dauka. Bere gelan eseri dira,
panpinen sudurrei zimikoak egiteko, panpinen begiak sakatzeko.
Behin alpargata iletsu batean paseatzera atera zuten panpinetako bat,
baina gehiegi zen, urrunegi joatea zen hura. Anne ez zen ausartu.
Annek alpargata barruan panpina paratu eta armairuan sartu zuen,
auto bat balitz bezala alpargata. Atea itxi zuen gero.
Amerika, Detroit, Michigango fabrikako auto-argien gizona da,
kableen ardura duena, globo zuriarena, egun osoan, urte osoan,
urtebeteko auto-argi guztiena, egunero hirurogeita hamar,
automatizazioak hobetzen ditu, bidenabar; ez, ordea, Anne.
Amerika Ohioko meatzari bat da,
zulo ilunean behera labain gauero,
katu begiak bueltan ekartzeko gero.
Amerika gela hau soilik delako...
ez dago deus baliagarria egiterik jada.
Amerikan, zeure panpinak soilik dira alai.
[1974]
Sixth psalm
For America is a lady rocking on a porch in an unpainted house on an unused road but Anne does not see it. / For America is a librarian in Wichita coughing dust and sharing sourballs with the postman. / For America is Dr. Abraham passing out penicillin and sugar pills to the town of Woolrich, Pennsylvania. / For America is an old man washing his feet in Albion, Michigan. Drying them carefully and then applying Dr. Scholl's foot powder. But Anne does not see it. Anne is locked in. / For America is a reformed burglar turned locksmith who pulls up the shades of his shop at nine a.m. daily (except Sunday when he leaves his phone number on the shop door). / For America is a fat woman dusting a grand piano in English Creek, New Jersey. / For America is a suede glove manufacturer sitting in his large swivel chair feeling the goods and assessing his assets and debits. / For America is a bus driver in Embarrass, Minnesota, clocking the miles and watching the little cardboard suitcases file by. / For America is a land of Commies and Prohibitionists but Anne does not see it. Anne is locked in. The Trotskyites don’t see her. The Republicans have never tweaked her chin for she is not there. Anne hides inside folding and unfolding rose after rose. She has no one. She has Christopher. They sit in their room pinching the dolls’ noses, poking the dolls’ eyes. One time they gave a doll a ride in a fuzzy slipper but that was too far, too far wasn’t it. Anne did not dare. She put the slipper with the doll inside it as in a car right into the closet and pushed the door shut. / For America is the headlight man at the Ford plant in Detroit, Michigan, he of the wires, he of the white globe, all day, all day, all year, all his year’s headlights, seventy a day, improved by automation but Anne does not. / For America is a miner in Ohio, slipping into the dark hole and bringing forth cat’s eyes each night. / For America is only this room . . . there is no useful activity. / For America only your dolls are cheerful.