Two Poems

Abstract

Juggling Urban Psychosis The cage has turned into a bird and it has flown away my heart has lost its mind – Alejandra Pizarnik We set free birds of anger into the wind filled with wet nights and dark dawns. Streets pour smoke and turn into a sacred tomb while newspapers twirl among us, and we eat ravings. Car horns deafen my death. In the rambling verses written on a wall, blood throbs like a traffic light. I am the barefoot whore. Cowardly steps hurt until they burn. They come and go, spitting semen that pay for the hit of the day and then they disappear, pedaling unicycles of status quo. We go outside, burdened by mournings hypnotized by red-and-blue nightmares that echo through the step-filled alley stained with leftovers of Chinese food. Meanwhile Old San Juan ex-politicians get up as early as graffiti artists, They light up and inhale psychedelic applause. We keep dying between newspapers and our own steps, inevitably loving the scent of the city, falling into the void just like birds of anger. ____________________________________________________ Two Poems by Ana María Fuster Lavín Ana María Fuster Lavín is a Puerto Rican writer and cultural columnist. She received awards from PEN Puerto Rico’s chapter for her novel Requiem and from the Instituto de Literatura Puertorriqueña for her short-story collection Verdades Caprichosas and for her poetry collection El libro de las sombras. She is also the author of several narrative and poetry books, including two gothic novels: (In)somnio and Mariposas Negras. Above Photos: Alonso Sambolín, “Revolution” Requiem for My Shadow Girl After the storm, then came silence and its explosion. A dessert of shadows closed its doors. Then it rained. We lit up our debris but then had to turn our backs to the light. We opened our eyes and then a world of eyes emerged over San Juan pain fell upon the back of the Poet like petals over a child’s face – a woman laughed her last teardrop – and Shadow Girl picked up corks from the street to draw her dreams over the remains of her shipwreck Goodbye sadness goodbye my Shadow Girl farewell to you and to the latches that guarded bedsheets never used by you. Still, we reached the city wings flapped as we arrived people died (my daughter died); silences capsized, they were so many, we mistook them for crucified daisies. The sea fed from exiles and fear, it took them all away, all of them and their misery. It also returned our gazes. And then, it dawned . . . Translations from the Spanish By Mayra Santos-Febres To read about Mayra Santos-Febres, turn to page 54. WORLDLIT.ORG 75 ...