A twinkle. A flash. Now. An iridescent pain is apparent in your eyes. This is how you look at me when we’ve been lost during night, palavering while I miss you because you go away and stay and no kisses bloom on the pillows.
I detach your small chunks: It’s from there that you walk away, edgeless, desanded, and clean. And there is where I became someone else’s skin that sometime keeps yours shaped as my memory. Or the ice that burnt his confession. Did you know that words might reveal themselves as a clenched fist? Would you reach the shelter under the shadow of my noon? I have little to say about my yearning: ritual, mirrored, the brutality of the mask.
Translation: Héctor Ranea
Origial in Spanish: Monstrua
The author: Lilian Elphick
No comments:
Post a Comment