Punta del Diablo
It wasn’t even here in any map
yet a mansion was built on the Cape,
out of nothing, on a rocky cliff,
impassible to all, a glyph.
The large house appeared there
from nowhere, out of thin air.
Who built it? And for who? Guess.
The place aloof, ownerless.
A ghost among large white
widows—viuditas blancas de Uruguay.
that clicked their beaks, a light
crisscrossed the sky at night.
Green turtles at the shore grass,
looked up at the concrete mass.
Whitewashed walls, torn
windows, an iron door.
There wasn’t a way in. A whirled
lighthouse to the underworld?
They said an heiress paid to build
the coastal mansion, she unseen
by fishermen, their spouses.
No-one at the house
but rock’s shadows, a frieze
against tempestuous seas.
In Devil’s Cape,
a house shaped
out of nothing—
the monstrous thing.