A poem by Oriette D’Angelo translated from the Spanish by Lupita Eyde-Tucker.

We have become a flat screen. Numbed by the thunder of legs. [blanket full of holes with news from another world.] The corpse that does not belong to us and the obsolete president accused of corruption. The program in another language and the inevitable antenna in each window, each home. They tell us that the right to food is worth more here than the right to life. And we die, but we eat. In my chest, paradises, beaches, are devoured. Los Roques, Mercal, La Tortuga. I underline a title like I underline a country. Weather changes and we invent the seasons. Our winter is a light rain and summer, the Guri, bone dry. We are run over by a motorcycle and we go on. Mine is a homeland of swarms. Who will teach us to come out from behind the screen? Love me and get me out of here, said Manolo Garcia, but you never listened to him.


Oriette D’Angelo & Lupita Eyde-Tucker