Rosamaria Roffiel lesbian poem
Once I wanted to be a man
to marry my sister
that already takes three divorces.
To love my friends
that in each relationship die a little.
I wanted to be a man
to fertilize their bellies,
not of children, but of poetry,
red wine, stopped watches,
blue unicorns
To tell Josefina
how much I admire his way of surrendering.
To write to Rosi
those letters that never arrive.
Call Pilar by phone
who waits so many afternoons
Fill with prolonged caresses
the space of Beatriz,
who lives alone
and he is afraid of tremors.
I wanted to be a man,
to love them all and not feel more
the cold of his tears on my shirt,
nor watch them go out,
or witness their funerals
in their coffins of thirty years.
I wanted to be a man
to invite them to fly the peripheral,
to dance barefoot because the America
he won the Guadalajara,
to take them by the arm to a bed
where they do not have to fake orgasms.
But I'm a woman and, although I can
share poetry with them,
write them letters
call them by phone,
fill them with prolonged caresses,
fly the peripheral,
dance barefoot,
dry your crying,
touch your soul ...
Is not sufficient.
It does not reach them.
Because, since they were little girls, they learned
that men are a prize to be loved,
no matter if they love them.
By: Rosamaria Roffiel
