The poem is written
so that no one reads it
but that doesn't seem to matter to the poem.
The poem grows anyway
even if no one sees it,
It is the same as those algae that adhere
to the slopes and remain there
and no one ever
not even a fish ever stops to sniff it
no diver takes a photo
It does not appear in the National or in Plantas Vivas
never ever and the seaweed however
it is there.
Thus the poem is an algae attached to another slope,
in the deep marine night of blood,
a light word, a storm,
and the poem comes away
and floats above nothing.