Aprender poesía es un buen ejercicio para la memoria.

‘Faith, that constant enemy of knowledge
and comforter for when we’ve not enough…’
I pause in hope that the jackdaw will acknowledge
my profundity. He simply says, ‘That’s tough.’

He hops and waits. Eventually I say, ‘What?’
And he says, ‘Gotcha! When you rabbit on
like this it’s always certain that you’ve got
no fresh ideas. And the one you have is wrong.’

‘So, knowledge is not a thing that faith impedes?’
I ask. The jackdaw hops and shakes his head.
‘Your starting point is wrong. Your thinking needs
a reboot,’ he says, ‘inside a clearer head.’

The universe, a web without a spider
spins endlessly to Einstein-Newton laws.
Or does it? Would a hunting god not hide her
own young, her own intentions, and her jaws
until the prey approach, relax and pause?
The death we witness never is our own.
Immortal qua experience, we hone
our skills as if we have unnumbered years;
while in the web, invisible, alone,
a something waits for which no prayer atones.