your name


This is my translation of an excerpt from the poem "Dia de São Tomé," by the talented Portuguese poet Matilde Campilho:

I could write your name
70 times in a row
But that wouldn't scare away
this longing
to utter your name
through salt and teeth
Or soothe the pain
of your physical absence
from the hollow specter
sitting across from me
at the restaurant
every day at 11am
From the passenger's seat
as I drive 
to the state tax agency
the good old wasted state
so vastly overrated
Writing your name
over and over
from top to bottom
then from left to right
and diagonally
like somebody hoping to
win at four in a row
some day...
that's a poor substitute
for the noise of water
inside my mouth
when the word You
used to reverberate 
between the palate and sea water
against my teeth
and ended up in the fissures
of some rock
Yes, your name
between one dive and another
Choking on your name
and sea water and laughs
Your name
coming against your face
at exactly the same time
as the shafts of sunlight
at 5.28pm
Your name
stolen from my breast yet again
by our faithful pelican.


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