The artist comes next
she tells the story of the stories.


The first person may be the child who
says    Listen!   Guess what happened!
The important listener is the mother
The mother says    What?


The first person can be the neighbor
She says      Today my son told me      Goodbye
I said    Really?   Who are you?   You 
didn’t even say hello yet      The listener
is probably her friend     She remembers
Well wasn’t he always like that    as a small boy
I mean      The neighbor says    That’s not
true     You’re absolutely wrong    He was like a
motorcycle     a little horse      every now
and then at rest      a flower


The first person is often the lover who
says I never knew anyone like you
The listener is the beloved      She whispers
Who?   Me?


The first person is the giver of testimony
He rises and tells        I lived in that village
My father shouted     He returned from the fields
I was too small         My father cried out
Why don’t you grow up and help me     my mother said
Help him       you’re eight years old     it’s time
The listeners say     Oh!    it was just
like that            I remember


The giver of testimony rises and tells
I lived in the hut        behind the barn
The padron   the manager     the master came
to me     I can take you whenever I want
he said     Now you’re old enough     The right
age is twelve he said   The giver of testimony
rises       She looks into her village   she
looks into the next village      Where
are the listeners


The artist comes next       She waits for
the listeners too       What if they’re all dead or   
deafened by grief or in prison     Then
there’s    no way out of it    She will listen
It’s her work      She will be the listener
in the story of the stories