by Livia Natalia (Brazil)
translated by Tiffany Higgins

In a time of departed men
no crossing is possible
and Odysseus only skirts the edges
of the fleshy navel.

In a time of departed men
an immense tapestry is woven
recording the death of 54 million Brazilians — alive.

In a time of departed men
the foxes guard the sweet grapes
and the sirens don’t sing to drive any sailors crazy.

The days pass heavily, narrating the time of dreams
we fear the oblique bodies of the departed men
but our feet devour the streets and shoot life
against the silence:

captured in an immense tower of 180 floods
a woman hopes with all her might
for the long march of departed men
to pass.

Livia Natalia (Brazil)
translated by Tiffany Higgins

The dead one’s body
has an indecisive presence
that keeps grinding the world around it
with teeth that roar.

The dead body devours
the remains of the world

as if it were biting an apple
removing from it
the fine granule of each delay.

The corpse, passing by
carried like a resuscitated child

bears in its hands
crossed over its stomach
the clear sign
of its fruitless hunger.

by Mardonio Carballo (Nahuatl, Mexico)
translated by Margaret Randall

I still remember the day you were born
Now they tell me no one knows where you are
Yesterday I got a telephone call
And today they sent me part of your ear
And they tell me to be strong
I shouldn’t cry
What can I do?
(Grieve)

by Yana Lucila Lema (Ecuador : Kichwa)
translated by Margaret Randall

they tell us our land is no longer ours
that they’ve bought our water

but the corn will mature on the land
and water will come from the clouds
she will run in the mountains
to the places where the spirit caretakers of everything live

corn land
corn bread
corn water
corn flower in the clouds

corn behind the male mountains
behind the female mountains

in its honor we have erected barricades
and have lit the sacred fire