I don’t like what the moon is supposed to do.
Confuse me, ovulate me,

spoon-feed me longing. A kind of ancient
date-rape drug. So I’ll howl at you, moon,

I’m angry. I’ll take back the night. Using me to
swoon at your questionable light,

you had me chasing you,
the world’s worst lover, over and over

hoping for a mirror, a whisper, insight.
But you disappear for nights on end

with all my erotic mysteries
and my entire unconscious mind.

How long do I try to get water from a stone?
It’s like having a bad boyfriend in a good band.

Better off alone. I’m going to write hard
and fast into you moon, face-fucking.

Something you wouldn’t understand.
You with no swampy sexual

promise but what we glue onto you.
That's not real. You have no begging

cunt. No panties ripped off and the crotch
sucked. No lacerating spasms

sending electrical sparks through the toes.
Stars have those.

What do you have? You’re a tool, moon.
Now, noon. There’s a hero.

The obvious sun, no bulls hit, the enemy
of poets and lovers, sleepers and creatures.

But my lovers have never been able to read
my mind. I’ve had to learn to be direct.

It’s hard to learn that, hard to do.
The sun is worth ten of you.

You don't hold a candle
to that complexity, that solid craze.

Like an animal carcass on the road at night,
picked at by crows,

haunting walkers and drivers. Your face
regularly sliced up by the moving

frames of car windows. Your light is drawn,
quartered, your dreams are stolen.

You change shape and turn away,
letting night solve all night’s problems alone.

^{translated from the Spanish by Andrés Fernández}

^{(to my sister)}

(the deafening
sound
of the sea
comes 
between
us both)

I say to her:
I think
we're
drowned

she replies:
no
We're not
drowned

I say to her:
we're lying
side by side
at the bottom
of the sea

she replies:
no
We are standing
on the shore

I say to her:
I truly
believe
we've
already drowned

she replies:
no
We are
breathing
just fine

I say to her:
for me
no 
air
comes
in

she replies:
I have air
for both of us

desacuerdo

 ^{(a mi hermana)} 

(el rugido 
ensordecedor
del mar 
se interpone
entre 
las dos)
  
yo le digo:
creo 
que estamos 
ahogadas
  
ella responde:
no 
No estamos 
ahogadas

yo le digo:
yacemos 
a la par 
en el fondo 
del mar

ella responde:
no 
Estamos de pie 
en la orilla
  
yo le digo:
de verdad 
creo 
que ya 
nos ahogamos
  
ella responde:
no 
Estamos 
respirando 
muy bien

yo le digo:
a mí 
no 
me 
entra 
aire
  
ella responde:
Yo tengo aire
para las dos