Jessica Pujol 

Translator

otherwise called madam silicone, is a type of previous or marginal woman to the revolution for equality because she is or is not simply like a Murano crystal vase that one places onto the dining room table, as ornament


                woman gives woman woman gives woman woman gives woman
                                                                      woman
                                                                      woman
                                                                      woman
                                                                         and
                                                                       GULP
                                                           the plastic woman

                                 you will see her passing by at eight forty-three
                                                            is the dyed blond
                                                   with kilometric eyelashes
                                                           ordinary lips and
                                                  rubber breasts and bottom
                                                           is the icon-woman

                                                              madam silicone

                                                  oh my god the superficiality
                                                      that passes by confident
                                                              nailing the heels

                                                   looking at who looks at her

                                                    she exhibits herself proud
                                                             like a zoo animal

                                            species on the path to proliferation
                                                                  species no
                                                                       no no
                                                                          no
                                                                          no
                                                                          no

                                                      fake darkness fake blond
                                                                     size eight
                                           nothing for lunch nothing for dinner
                                                        beautiful only from afar
                                                                   fake outside
                                                              and empty inside

                                                         rich poor icon-woman
                                that devout lights a candle for god or whomever
                                                      to keep her face and body
                    while there are women everywhere praying for their children                                                                     and husbands
                                             to survive crossing Tarifa or Arizona
                                                          ouch madam silicone
                                                  you have not learnt anything

                       and what can you learn with this your minimised brain?
                                  you are only a beautiful paradigm of stupidity
                                                        a tasteless instant soup

If one unstitches
the first letter
he has three lines to draw
a whole kingdom: A.

(…)

We will learn, with you, to conjugate the capitals.
Because your letters will be high.
High as the air that is already flying over you.
As the clear sky of an endless afternoon.

You do not end.
You begin yourself and ourselves.
One.

(…)

To say A. is unattainable.
Do not seek any boundary there.
Wind and fog, river and path,
and the impetus of the sun.

(…)

This mystique of mine
is my flesh expanding.
Marshland of yours that makes a claim, like him, whenever you like.

And beyond the limit
every volcano is initially a mountain
and volcano and mountain I am.

WITH MY FEET FIRMLY ROOTED in the mud of this land that does not belong to me, with my wings outstretched and free to all the winds, with my glance projected far away, there where the view ends and where the green of the hills turns blue and merges with the sky, with an open heart, as an open sea, as a whole, I say goodbye.

(…)

I AM NOT LOOKING FOR ANYTHING, no hindrance. Nobody to applaud the great striving nor the small triumph—the others, who are the others? My actions ask for the silence of naked rails still warm from the train that has just passed.

Every emptiness seeks in me a new full. I am the moon. I would be the moon. And sometimes we are not here. We would not be here. Or we have hidden behind the black curtains of the night’s black sky. In the ethereal and inconstant yesterdays and in the usual doubts.

(...)

WE ARE THE ONES FROM THE MARGIN. Those who trace the very wide contour of the periphery. The ones that dwell in the emptiness left by secrets. We are the synapse. We are the eclipse. We are the leaf’s drop that becomes a tear if you do not tell me what I would like to hear. We are love in its burst state. We are the dream that dreams about us. We are that thing.

(…)

NO, I CANNOT COUNT. But, after the night comes the day and after the day, the night.

I impose birds and wind and self-exile upon myself. Blackbirds, swallows and singing without end.

No, I will not tell the difference.

you do not say
anything
and it is for
fear
of the well
that you know
I am

I dry the scar
of you
I drink in words
that I steal
from nights
of painful
dawn

I lose
the way south
the one I know
and which any star
from here
or from the desert
repeats

and empty
are you
not saying
a word
to me
who takes you
from north to north

you do not say anything
and the thing is you know
that fear
is a well
and emptiness
and it is quite
                      sublime