[ninguna membrana de contención estaba ahí para protegernos]

October 30, 2016 in Uncategorized by

mediodía
ninguna música de fondo

[voz i] hay aproximaciones a la muerte más atroces que la enfermedad.

[voz ii] …

[voz i] descubrí que había reino y amenaza en un cuerpo destruido. tuve vicios que no comprenderías.

[voz ii] ¿como los desembarcos? ¿el duelo? ¿ese abrimiento?

[voz i] hago un esfuerzo por olvidar. ya no me reconozco. y esta herida, una impunidad. la belleza, como la infancia, nos es arrebatada sin aviso.

[voz ii] ¿has pensado cuándo arreció la desdicha? ¿cuándo dijiste: estoy rendida? solo tú podías hacer de esa derrota un don celeste. nunca vi ojos más torpes brillar de esa manera.

[voz i] comencé a hablar sola, pero mi voz era obscena. supe que ninguna efusividad reemplazaría mi antigua fascinación.

[voz ii] ¿y esta luz tan blanca? ¿la habitación vacía? ¿has temido la radioactividad?

[voz i] no. pero en sueños me veo debilitada. al despertar, he preferido no encontrarme con objetos amados.

[voz ii] me gustaría insistir en los detalles. hay en ti un desfiladero que no reconozco. la imagen de un animal que contiene todo el pavor del mundo.

[voz i] ¿pavor? ¿te refieres al sobresalto? no. he llevado ese tumor como una perla, una joya solo mía. a veces he querido enterrarlo en el jardín, con la esperanza de alimentar una flor desconocida.

[voz ii] habría que celebrar la desorientación. si alguien respira sin enrarecimiento me parece una mala señal.

[voz i] la multiplicación de las células no es un privilegio. aquí no engañamos a nadie. una invasión. un todo prolifera agresivamente. en otro tiempo era el deseo. abatirse. un cuerpo contra otro. esa gravedad.

[voz ii] pareces una mujer perseguida por lo voraz.

[voz i] parezco una mujer. digo: la enfermedad me ayudará a vivir. mi desesperación es falsa. hay aproximaciones a la muerte más atroces.


Daniela Camacho (México, 1980). Is the author of the poetry books En la punta de la lengua, Plegarias para insomnes, [imperia] and the book of palindromes Aire sería, as well as the object book Pasaporte, printed in a trilingual edition along with Natalia Litvinova and Beatriz Paz. In collaboration with the audiovisual artist Christian Becerra, she has published the artist books Carcinoma and Híkuri, which are a part of the Artes de México collection. She was the anthologist for the collection of contemporary hispanic poets Hijas del Diablo, Hijas del Santo. In the last years she has lived in Tokyo, Lausanne and Cairo.


 

[There was no contention membrane there to protect us]

Noon

No music as background

[voice i] there are more atrocious approximations to death than sickness.

[voice ii] …

[voice i] I discovered there’s both a kingdom and a threat in a destroyed body. I had vices that you could not understand.

[voice ii] like a disembarkment? Grieve? That kind of opening?

[voice i] I make an effort to forget. I don’t recognize myself. this wound is just impunity. Beauty, as childhood, is ripped away from us without warning.

[voice ii] have you wondered when did misery strengthen?  When was it that you said: I give up? It was only you who could make a heavenly gift out of this defeat. I never saw clumsiest eyes shining in that way.

[voice i] I started talking to myself, but my voice was obscene. I knew that no effusiveness could replace my former fascination.

[voice ii] and this whitest light? The empty room? Have you ever been scared of radioactivity?

[voice i] no. but when dreaming i see myself growing weaker. At awakening I rather not find beloved objects.

[voice ii] i would like to insist on the details. There’s a coomb in you that i can’t recognize. The image of an animal containing all the dread of the world.

[voice i] dread? You mean the shock? No. i have carried this tumor as a pearl, a jewel of my own. Sometimes I’ve wanted to bury it in the garden hoping to feed an unknown flower.

[voice ii] we should celebrate disorientation. If someone breathes without rarefying i take it as a bad signal.

[voice i] the multiplication of cells is no privilege. We don’t deceive anybody here. An invasion. An everything proliferating aggressively. It used to be desire. Thwarting. A body against another body. That kind of gravity.

[voice ii] you seem like a woman chased by the ravenous.

[voice i] I seem like a woman. I say: sickness will help me live. My desperation is fake. There are more atrocious approximations to death.

 


MarieJo Delgadillo, (1991) is a Mexican journalist and multidisciplinary artist. Having worked for over six years interviewing artists, politicians and everyday people to find out about them, and publishing in newspapers and magazines both nationally and internationally, she is now expanding her own creative work. Currently she is interested in finding ways poetry and journalistic investigation can work together, exploring topics as pornography, fashion, capitalism and the idea of the body as a commodity. She is also a dance instructor. Her literary work in spanish can be read at https://mariejodelgadillo.wordpress.com/ and she tweets as @MarieJoDel.