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A Northside knife

There along the Maldonado
That's hidden now and blind,
There in the grizzled slum
Poor Carriego sang,

Behind a door ajar
That gives on yard and vine,
Where night heard
The guitar's love,

Will be a box and at the bottom
Will be sleeping with hard shine
Among those things that time
Knows how to forget, a knife.

It was that Saverio Suárez's,
Better known as el Chileno,
Who in gambling halls and elections
Always proved himself the good one.

Boys, who are the devil
Will look for it with stealth
And try with a fingertip
To see if its edge is nicked.

How many times it entered
The flesh of a Christian
And now it's put away alone,
Waiting for a hand,

That's dust. Behind the glass
A yellow sun gilds,
Across years and houses,
I'm looking at you, knife.