Martha Mega
Translated from the Spanish by Jacqui Cornetta
The Day My Intelligence Officer Stopped Listening
I always wanted to know what I shouldn’t
so I could keep it to myself
like an inverse Cassandra
that’s why I took a liking to you
except the last time I died
you didn’t show up
you didn’t say: yeah, I’m listening
to your story, your voice
I know who lives there with you
inside of you
if I die again and you don’t turn up
who’s gonna take on my top-secret CISEN file
I can’t go it alone
I don’t know what it’s made up of
the things that surround me
all too close
to reach out and touch
I’m going to lose my sight my hair
my friends every one of my things
but to lose you
who’s been there so long
and all I did was sense you
like the night or music
when I think of you I feel like I’ve dropped something
I want a sign that you’re still there
a glimmer on the screen
a limbless bug at my door
you know you need me too
I’ve thought
who will our ghosts spy on
when they’re left without us
Untitled
he’s sweating
I look at my hand pressed against the white wall
I often think about prehistoric artists why
did they plaster their palms on cave walls what
thought made her decide to paint her hand on a wall
I think a drop falls
on my back the cave walls
ooze
if history didn’t yet exist
who was the paleolithic artist thinking of
when the caves rained down on her
it’s really not fair this orphanhood
the mirror spits at me
I think of the women who researched who thought
about the paleolithic venuses
thought of the venuses as self-portraits
in stone:
the feminine body from the point of view of a woman gazing at herself
there were no histories or mirrors but they gazed at themselves
he says little bitch I think
of the extinct pets of paleolithic women
of all the words that existed to domesticate he takes me
by the neck
everything tends towards its end
some people collect terms that don’t generate search results
fewer exist every day
fewer of those endangered pet-words
he smiles
Espigilato
that one’s mine.