II, III, IV, VI
Translated by: Seth Michelson
Artwork by Gaya
I now sleep with folded wings,
lying wordless in a groove.
I chew the dark fruit,
its bitter sweetness of bread.
Frozen honey, godless mask.
All the black animals paired.
Perfection is this ice,
A surprise of water for feet.
Eyes licked by fever,
a name’s flavour thinned in the mouth.
In the extremity of hands
the darkness is soft
as your tongue traversing my brain.
The bones of your ears cut hidden flowers from the rain.
—“Your silence is perfect, like a wineskin that doesn’t leak.”
Nothing remains of me, only this light that shoots through me.
Melisa is the author of three collections of poetry, and she also is an art critic, therapist, and journalist. She lives in Durazno, Uruguay.
Seth is the author of two books of poetry, three chapbooks of poetry, and seven books of poetry in translation, predominantly by feminist poets from the Southern Cone. He teaches the poetry of the Americas in the Romance Languages Department at Washington and Lee University.