By Gloria Esquivel. Translated by Catherine Mansfield.
One hundred and fifty lobster pincers couldn’t snap at my heels: I resisted the
crustacean attack with perfect poise.
Since then I surrender to idleness
submerged in boiling water
among butter and blisters.
Si no me comes tendré que comerme a mí mismo
And the red-raw flesh won’t cook anymore,
it’s only shell.
Chelsea Market
Escrito por Gloria Esquivel.
Ciento cincuenta tenazas de langosta no quebraron los talones:
resistí con entereza el ataque crustáceo.
Desde entonces me rindo al ocio
sumergida en agua hirviendo
entre mantequilla y ampollas.
If you don’t eat me I’ll have to eat myself
Ya la carne enrojecida no se cuece,
es coraza.