by Elicura Chihuailaf (Mapuche, Chile)
translated by Camila Yver

I am old, and from a blooming tree
I look at the horizon
How many winds did I walk?
I do not know
From the other side of the sea
the setting sun
has already sent out its messengers
and I am departing to meet
my ancestors
Blue is the place where we go
The spirits of water carry me off
step by step
Wenulewfv / the River of the Sky
is barely one small circle
in the universe

In this Dream I shall stay:
Stroke, oarsmen! In Silence
I move away
in the invisible song of life.

Reina Maria Rodriguez (Cuba)
translated by Kristin Dykstra

The bathtub and the heating pipe
where you can entwine your neck
in a shoelace
if the body hangs one span
higher than its ideal for resurrection.
“Go back, go back in time”
— what the father wants —
to vindicate him.

I put the vase out
and take it back quickly,
because they died young
and flowers aren’t enough
to calm the anxiety.
It wasn’t a struggle
to put your head in the oven, Sylvia;
into the loop, Juan;
under a wheel–shaped paperweight,
my brother.
It wasn’t a struggle, Rom n
to hang from the wire
like a bird disemboweled
in the wind from the heater.
“The sensitive ones,” they say:
return, begin.
I remember Georgette
ascending the coast on her bicycle,
Maeterlinck riding behind.
The one thing I do is think about that moment
when I couldn’t hold you up
or save you from the axe.

from Poemas de Navidad [Christmas Poems], Bokeh, 2018

by Reina Maria Rodriguez (Cuba)
translated by Kristin Dykstra

Everything I took was only borrowed:
your house
quilt
pillow
pocket mirror
waistline
teeth
head.
Everything in place for an everything
that vanished
and was surrendered
differently
when I cried or when you smiled.
Now,
the corners discredit
something present only in appearance
and the walls fell
paint peeling
over pictures
fruits
bottles
plates
bottle opener.

from the unpublished manuscript “Mazorcas” [Corncobs]