This chapter is one of five that make up Benjamín Eliézer Morales Moreno's book .U.S.S.A., soon forthcoming in English translation. Morales Moreno, born in Mexico City in 1984, is editor of the magazine Viento en vela and several other publishing projects, including a series of chapbooks by poets from each Latin American country, distributed free of charge on Mexico City's metro system.—DS
She hangs from the trees, Nina Simone
Remember the bloodhounds at night,
in a halo of coppery vapor,
on the trembling of your chest.
and behind the bloodhound,
with a metallic clatter of voices,
that flies into the night,
behind the pretty nigger,
that hides from his father,
beneath the bushes that fear
and the hound with its jaws locked,
in an exhale of groan and dance
that flash-pop like opening night,
of shotgun-blasted bodies,
a bowl of tar receives you,
in the forest of your king,
because his feet sink in the swamp,
tracing the current of shininess
At home you lost your name,
the church and its copper bell,
behind the rural dunghill.
after the public’s wonder,
which applauds the nigger,
with passionate tenderness,
to somersault with the animal
where the bird left its stamp.
that blows through the trees with her thick breath.
you heard the songs even earlier,
and you wanted an entire continent
when they dragged you back to the tree,
with the noose around your neck,
your tribe that denied it
then turned back to the noose
for they know not what they do”
and a sad song escapes from your eyes,
and pappy takes the hound away,
a branch of live flowers,
and the barrel of his applause
illuminates the swamp with silver,
from every one of his kingdom’s
Cuelga de los árboles, Nina Simone
Recuerdas los sabuesos en la noche,
en halo de vapor cobrizo,
en el temblor de su pecho.
que se esconde del padre,
bajo los arbustos que temen
y el can con las prensas trabadas,
en un exhalar de gruñido y danza
que retozan como noche de estreno,
que se contorsiona y canta
dando la actuación de una vida,
de los cuerpos escopetados,
un cuenco de brea te va recibiendo,
que alimenta a los perros
por mojar las orillas del pantano,
trazando el cause de brillo
En casa perdiste el nombre,
iglesia y campana de cobre,
tras el muladar del campo.
tras el asombro del público
en su escenario escarlata,
en volteretas con el animal
en la caricia de la bestia
encontró mejor horizonte,
donde el ave dejó su estampa.
Ahora tu cabello la cubre,
como en sepelio de algodones,
acariciados por el cantar
que revuelve los árboles con su aliento espeso.
escuchaste los cantos aun antes,
y quisiste un continente entero
cuando te jalaron de vuelta al árbol,
pues no saben lo que hacen”
y una tonada triste escapa de tus ojos,
ilumina en platas el pantano,
de cada uno de los árboles
