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  • Ángela Landete Arnal

POETRY SLAM



THE RAINBOW IN MY HAND



I’m seriously focused on trapping the fleeting violet magic

while she asks me a question I resolutely answer.


The dualistic lemon green I manage to catch,

the essence of which

alternates inevitably between two bands,

while —two, three—

she keeps ticking her chart.


I discover the dazzling beauty of light orange,

which I speedy intend to hunt,

as my daughter moves

from question number four to number five.


Her little child fingers intertwine with mine,

they rest tinted on my hand.


I stick to the colourful imaginary track,

convinced that my intricate life

will thus reflect this simple iridescent bow of light.


Eight, nine and ten questions till I,

curiosity-struck,

enquire the topic of her weekly homework

to be done.



All the colours caress my skin at last,

her hand’s on my hand,

her fingers are on mine.

And then…

I’m left speechless by her reply,

for she unexpectedly declares

she must interview someone

she’s admired for a long time.







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