Amosando publicacións coa etiqueta Carolyn Forché. Amosar todas as publicacións
Amosando publicacións coa etiqueta Carolyn Forché. Amosar todas as publicacións

martes, 22 de decembro de 2015

Cambodia

Taking Off My Clothes

I take off my shirt, I show you.
I shaved the hair out under my arms.
I roll up my pants, I scraped off the hair   
on my legs with a knife, getting white.


My hair is the color of chopped maples.   
My eyes dark as beans cooked in the south.   
(Coal fields in the moon on torn-up hills)
Skin polished as a Ming bowl
showing its blood cracks, its age, I have hundreds   
of names for the snow, for this, all of them quiet.
In the night I come to you and it seems a shame   
to waste my deepest shudders on a wall of a man.


You recognize strangers,
think you lived through destruction.
You can’t explain this night, my face, your memory.


You want to know what I know?   
Your own hands are lying

Carolyn Forché
from Gathering the Tribes

*

You kiss like a soldier, 

you move like a snake, 

in your marble body there´s nothing I can break.   

(...)  

Use, use me, make something pretty of me. 

Excuse this naked mess, 

I refuse to own myself under these present circumstances, 

take it as it is my dear friend

Rosenvinge