False Ice Cream Shop / Falsa Heladería

By MARA PASTOR
Translated by MARÍA JOSÉ GIMÉNEZ

She asked me for an ice cream machine.
When she said it her collarbones were pronounced.
They were beginning to wilt,
but her skin was the flesh of coconut itself.
She wanted a machine to make ice cream,
to sell it in the neighborhood
and pay for the maintenance
of houses she no longer inhabits.
It didn’t matter that she had returned
from a post-war city.
To remodel the interiors of an Ottoman past.
Nothing mattered.
There was no work on this island.
I wish I could tell her:
“The ice cream machine will fix everything.”

//

Ella me pidió una máquina para hacer helado.
Cuando lo dijo tenía las clavículas pronunciadas.
Empezaban a marchitarse,
pero su piel era la carne misma del coco.
Quería una máquina para hacer helado,
venderlos en la urbanización
y así pagar el mantenimiento
de las casas que ya no habita.
Nada importó haber regresado
de una ciudad en postguerra.
Remodelar los interiores de un pasado otomano.
Nada importó.
No había trabajo en esta isla.
Yo quisiera decirle:
“La máquina de hacer helado lo arreglará todo”.

 

Mara Pastor is a Puerto Rican poet. Her works include the translated chapbooks As Though the Wound Had Heard and Children of Another Hour, and, in Spanish, Sal de Magnesio, Arcadian Boutique, and Poemas para Fomentar el Turismo. She lives in Ponce, Puerto Rico. 

María José Giménez is a poet, translator, and editor who has received fellowships from the National Endowment for the Arts, the Banff International Literary Translation Centre, and the Katharine Bakeless Nason Endowment. Assistant translation editor of Anomaly, Giménez is the translator of Tilting at Mountains (Edurne Pasaban), Red, Yellow, Green (Alejandro Saravia), and As Though the Wound Had Heard (Mara Pastor). 

[Purchase Issue 16 here.]

False Ice Cream Shop / Falsa Heladería

Related Posts

Black and white image of a bird with a long neck

Dispatch from Marutha Nilam

SAKTHI ARULANANDHAM
With the swiftness and dexterity / of a hawk that pounces upon a chicken / and takes it by force, / the bird craves / snapping up a vast terrain / with its powerful, sharp beak / and flying away with it. // When that turns out to be impossible, / in the heat of its great big sigh, / all the rivers dry up.

Tripas Book Cover

Excerpt from Tripas

BRANDON SOM
One grandmother with Vicks, one with Tiger Balm, rubbed / fires of camphor & mint, old poultices, / into my chest: their palms kneading & wet with salve, / its menthols, to strip the chaff & rattle in a night wheeze. Can you / hear their lullabies?

Blue cover of There is Still Singing in the Afterlife

Four Poems by JinJin Xu

JINJIN XU
my mother, my father. / Her skinny blue wrists, his ear caressing a cigarette. In the beginning, / it is already too late, but there is hunger & no time / to waste. All they need are six hands, three mouths, a clockwork / yearning for locks of their own, windows square & fresh.