the nail fell, making the floor shriek
i aim to fix the hole by filling it with paper
wad it up a little and stuff it in
it can’t fail
i push it in deeper
it falls through, into a void
i try again but with bigger paper
it falls through
i write tiny poems and toss them into the new mailbox on my wall
i explain the lack of plaster to whomever might see it:
children who fall from bed
latent madness
the freedom of abandonment
a stranger among my own
it’s odd
i follow the rabbit like Alice
it’s good
i pedal without a path
attuned to the possibilities of the moment
lying still in wait
i hunt
“[cayó el clavo]” © Victoria Estol. By arrangement with the author. Translation © 2014 by Seth Michelson. All rights reserved.