Three poems

este cuerpo es un país—pensó la mujer que escribe

la que por vez primera puso
su estampa sobre las superficies de la tierra

este cuerpo es materia
como la Piedra
y en él se encuentran dos sangres

la que traen los hombres de la caza
la que traemos las mujeres a la puerta

una sangre atrae la depredación

la otra marca los ciclos del tiempo

veintiocho lunas
y la sangre resurge oscura
se vuelve tinta permanente
me convierte en fruta de la fruta

estas piedras que todo lo han visto
conocen la historia

saben que todas las sangres son una.

this body is a country, thought the woman who writes

she who for the first time put
her stamp on the land’s surface

this body is material
like the stone
and in it one finds two bloods

that which men bring from the hunt
that which women bring to the door

one blood attracts predation

the other marks cycles of time

twenty-eight moons
and the blood rises again dark
turns a permanent ink-black
converts me into the fruit of the fruit

with all they’ve seen, these stones
know history

know all bloods are one.

astrolabios

quiso besar el sol
el centro del sol
con espejos que miden la Tierra
en su transcurso por el universo

su padre, cómplice, le enseñó
a besar el sol, el centro del sol
y a marcar los signos y los designios como labios

pero el sol quema
los saberes del sol frente a las cosas oscuras
queman

frente a los hábitos oscuros del terror
frente a los viajes y los desplazamientos
de todo cuerpo terrestre o celeste,
buscando el conocimiento

esa pasión

ese beso de los astros
que desmembraron el cuerpo de Hipatia

los hábitos oscuros
de los monjes de San Cirilo de Jerusalén
pretendieron
que aquella que besaba al sol
renunciara a su pasión y acatara
el ojo cerrado de lo Divino

esa fe ciega

cerrada a toda otra luz

los hábitos del terror arrancaron la carne
de la observadora
le quemaron sus labios, su labia
su carne ensangrentada fue arrojada por todos los rincones
de Alejandría
y luego, amaneció.

astrolabes

she wanted to kiss the sun
the center of the sun
with lenses that measure the Earth
in its course across the universe

her father, complicit, taught her
to kiss the sun, the center of the sun
and to mark the signs and designs as lips

but the sun burns
the sun’s wisdom burns
dark things

the dark habits of terror
of trips and displacements
of all bodies terrestrial and celestial,
seeking knowledge

that passion

that kiss from the stars
that dismembered Hypatia’s body

the dark habits
of the monks of Saint Cyril of Jerusalem
who claimed
that she who kissed the sun
would renounce her passion and obey
the closed eye of the Divine

that blind faith

closed to all other light

habits of terror set fire to the flesh
of the observer
burning her lips, her labia
her bloody flesh was bashed against every corner
of Alexandria
and later it dawned.

tinta china

humo negro de la tinta

el fuego nos curte entero entero
sube desde la hoguera
en las noches en que no alumbra la luna

tú y yo oscurecidas
gynas sapiens con su tinta
tomamos nota

tú y yo
vamos dejando imprimaturas sobre la faz de la tierra

¿si tú fueras yo

quién yo fuera
sino una lenta combustión que sube al cielo?

humo negro que se engomina
con sudor y sebo
y el aceite de mis dedos

de mi piel sobada y negra
cuando la luna no alumbra

en las aguas de todo lo que es.

india ink

black smoke of ink

the fire hardens us whole whole
rising from the fire
on nights unlit by the moon

you and i darkened
gyna sapiens with your ink
we take note

you and i
go leaving imprints over the face of the earth

if you were me

who would i be
but a slow combustion rising into the sky?

black smoke that gels
with sweat and grease
and the oil of my fingers

with my raw, black skin
when the moon doesn’t shine

in the waters of all that is.

Mayra Santos-Febres is a leading voice in the hispanophone literature of the Black diaspora whose work powerfully explores intersections of race, gender, and sexuality. She is a professor of literature at the University of Puerto Rico in Río Piedras, and the director of community and cultural relations for the university’s International and Multidisciplinary Institute. She has published seven books of poetry, five novels, four collections of short stories, two books of essays, and a children’s book. Her many prizes include the prestigious Letras de Oro, the Premio Juan Rulfo, a Guggenheim Fellowship, a Rockefeller Bellagio Center Residency, and the National Prize in Literature from the National Academy of France.

Seth Michelson has published nineteen books of poetry and poetry in translation, as well as three anthologies of poetry. His honors include fellowships from the National Endowment for the Arts, the Fulbright Foundation, and the Mellon Foundation. His work has been translated into multiple languages, including German, Hindi, Italian, Serbian, Slovenian, Spanish, and Vietnamese. He teaches the poetry of the hemispheric Americas at Washington and Lee University, Lexington, Virginia, where he founded and directs the Center for Poetic Research and is the chair of the Latin American and Caribbean Studies Program.