The first gardenia smells of fresh skin
the second is naked body

that sweats and drags itself
between the sheets

the rest I cut
their throats
so as not to ruin this memory
faceless,  timeless

you are some where

around here
with that long scent.

La primera gardenia huele a piel fresca
la segunda es cuerpo desnudo

que suda y se arrastra
entre sábanas

las restantes las corto
a degüello
para no estropear este recuerdo
sin rostro, sin momento

estás por algún sitio

con ese olor
alargado


Butterflies
masturbate
some against others
when they forget about the air

About the lightness.

When they decide to transcend.

Las mariposas
se masturban
unas contra otras
cuando se olvidan del aire,

de la ligereza.

Cuando deciden trascender.

Shall I drink your bones?
Would you like me to suck your bones?

Fill them before
with fresh juice
with sap
of the sort that drops after
the absurd clumsy parade
of  bodies that would like to
love each other
and are still
Invunches caught in time.

Shall I drink you in a single sip or in thousands?

I confess I have a weakness
for badly made, defective goblets,
for the ones that can be tossed
broken down in a dry thud.

Yes, I will drink your bones
when you take off the mask,
you’re left in
your patent leather
Stiletto heels
when you only put on the gloves
and finally, at each step,
you ooze.

¿Te bebo los huesos?
¿quieres que te chupe los huesos?

Llénalos antes
de zumo fresco
dales resina
de esa que cae tras la cabalgata
absurda, torpe
de los cuerpos que quisieran
quererse
y no dejan de ser
imbunches sometidos al tiempo.

¿Te bebo de un sorbo o de miles?

Te confieso que tengo debilidad
por las copas mal hechas, defectuosas,
por las que se pueden tirar
quebrarse en un sonido seco.

Sí, te beberé los huesos
cuando te saques la máscara,
te quedes con
los zapatos acharolados,
de aguja,
cuando sólo te vistas con guantes
y por fin, a cada paso,
escurras.

I reiterate myself in the monstrosity
of the days
in the dry sap
of what waits uselessly.

Me reitero en la monstruosidad
de los días
en la resina seca
del que espera inútilmente.

Ins and Outs

I don’t know what to tell you,
the words just slip in
wherever they can
and it’s absurd to evoke,
but there they are:
carrousel images
(run away)
horses of long wood.

Entresijos

No sé que decirte,
las palabras se cuelan
por donde pueden
y es absurdo evocar,
pero ahí están:
imágenes de carrusel
(desbocados)
caballos de madera larga.

About author

Violeta Medina Mendez
Violeta Medina Mendez 1 posts

Violeta Medina (Chile), has been living in Madrid for the last 22 years. She was a doctoral student in Philology and is a journalist by profession. She has written the books Juegos de Humedad, Penta Gramas, El Reflejo and Piel de Vidrio. She has also published one book, Grietas para tu Espejo, in Bengali and another, Nos Habita, in collaboration with Laura Pugna (Italy) and Francis Catalano (Canada) in Spanish, Italian and French. She also has a project of visual experimentation on Vimeo, Vidrios en la Piel, in Spanish, Hindi, Bengali, Italian and Arabic (https://vimeo.com/62950536). Violeta has worked on three anthologies— Latitudes Extremas (on female poets of Chile and Norway), El Espejo de la Tierra (on Mapuche and Indigenous poets of Australia) and Pared de Agua (on Bengali poets)—and has also contributed to various anthologies across Spain and Latin America. Her recitals are developed through the performance of poetry.

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