titulo

Palabras Errantes Latin American Literature in Translation

Palabras Errantes
Posts Tagged ‘Gema Santamaria’
10:30 in the morning
10:30 in the morning

By Gema Santamaria. Translated by Rebecca Keith.     10:30 in the morning and we’re still not ready     a bird died in the entrance of your house. a creature hardly a body hardly without blood.   black wings between the leaves tangled in a troubled gesture, the tense agony of survival.   the […]

the most intimate place to start fires
the most intimate place to start fires

By Gema Santamaria. Translated by Rebecca Keith.     the most intimate place to start fires     the kitchen. hell. place of knives and blood.   it’s here where oil burns where my mother received her deepest scar.   they say it’s the place of abundance of the sweet, warm smell of milk, of […]

light rain
light rain

By Gema Santamaria. Translated by Rebecca Keith.     light rain     birds of salt fall on the greens.   a tiny muzzle stifles their cry, a chrysalis of light sharpens their torment.   dead from tired wings in a song turned blue by vertigo.   their whiteness undresses the abyss with the tiny […]

pyramidal
pyramidal

By Gema Santamaria. Translated by Rebecca Keith.     pyramidal     give me one more silence by your side, with the gray that hides this triangular morning behind the anguished crest of rocks.   god cast his wound here.   with his fist shut tight he sowed a circle of shy greens and petrified […]

antidote for a tragic woman
antidote for a tragic woman

By Gema Santamaria. Translated by Rebecca Keith.     antidote for a tragic woman     no more. not even a single turn into the abyss or a single fervor chipping at the soul after dawn.   nothing remains. you smell the streets and recognize the scent of your sex hanging like a tightrope-walking bird […]

the hole
the hole

By Gema Santamaria. Translated by Rebecca Keith.     i open a hole with my tongue. a hole where my legs can kick until they find the warm water of some well.   girl. cracked. dressed in white. she forgot her name and now she can’t go home. house-dollhouse, of purple dresses and celestial lace, […]

Note written after a
Note written after a

By Gema Santamaria. Translated by Rebecca Keith.   Note written after a “chaotic and doubtfully clear night”   I am witness to nothing more than your broken noses. To the tremor that doesn’t let you say a word without a stutter.   You always carry a canteen under your arm and a rancor that frees […]

Viernes negro
Viernes negro

By Gema Santamaria. Translated by Rebecca Keith.   Black Friday. A man trampled to death. Run over by a stampede of mad shoppers.   He was a temp, passing through. One more uniform in the chain of Walmart superstores.   I wonder how his bones cracked, if his mouth opened, if he spit blood at […]

Night in Managua
Night in Managua

By Gema Santamaria. Translated by Rebecca Keith.   Night in Managua, after the death of the roosters   Tonight has a reddened throat. It has screamed and is sick. It sleeps on the floor of a white, illuminated room.   It’s a big pink pig.   In the corner, it wails. It can’t think and […]

a theme looks for a theme
a theme looks for a theme

By Gema Santamaria. Translated by Rebecca Keith.   “a theme looks for a theme,” as Chantal Maillard would say   house. to live in parenthesis. to live in the meanwhile. on a rope— extended, horizontal. between two points :   not to be the tight-rope walker. but the rope, the rope itself. at its most […]