viernes, abril 18, 2008

Dos poemas de Jennifer L. Knox

Les dejo con la brutalmente hermosa poesía de esta fascinante escritora estadounidense. Estos dos poemas fueron publicados en su primer libro, "A Gringo Like Me" (2005). Prometo traducirlos algún día que las múltiples ocupaciones lo permitan. El impacto que han tenido en mí es similar al que me causó la lectura de "El pobrecito señor X", del mexicano Ricardo Castillo.

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Chicken Bucket

Today I turn thirteen and quit the 4-H club for good.
I smoke way too much pot for that shit.
Besides, Mama lost the rabbit and both legs
from the hip down in Vegas.
What am I supposed to do? Pretend to have a rabbit?
Bring an empty cage to the fair and say,
His name's REO Speedwagon and he weighs eight pounds ?
My teacher, Mr. Ortiz says, I'll miss you, Cassie,
then he gives me a dime of free crank and we have sex.
I do up the crank with Mama and her boyfriend, Rick.
She throws me the keys to her wheelchair and says,
Baby, go get us a chicken bucket.
So I go and get us a chicken bucket.
On the way back to the trailer, I stop at Hardy's liquor store.
I don't want to look like a dork
carrying a chicken bucket into the store—
and even though Mama always says
Never leave chicken where someone could steal it—
I wrap my jacket around it and hide it
under the wheelchair in the parking lot.
I've got a fake ID says my name's Sherry and I'm 22,
so I pick up a gallon of Montezuma Tequila,
a box of Whip-Its and four pornos.
Mama says, That Jerry Butler's got a real wide dick.
But the whole time I'm in line, I'm thinking,
Please God let the chicken bucket be OK.
Please God let the chicken bucket be OK.
Please God let the chicken bucket be OK.
The guy behind me's wearing a T-shirt
that says, Mustache Rides 10¢.
So I say, All I got's a nickel.
He says, You're cute,
so we go out to his van and have sex.
His dick's OK, but I've seen wider.
We drink most of the tequila and I ask him,
Want a Whip-It?
He says, Fuck no—that shit rots your brain.
And when he says that, I feel kind of stupid
doing another one. But then I remember
what mama always told me:
Baby be your own person.
Well fuck yes.
So I do another Whip-It,
all by myself and it is great.
Suddenly it hits me—
Oh shit! the chicken bucket!
Sure enough, it's gone.
Mama's going to kill me.
Those motherfuckers even took my jacket.
I can't buy a new chicken bucket
because I spent all the money at Hardy's.
So I go back to the trailer, crouch outside
behind a bush, do all the Whip-Its,
puke on myself, roll in the dirt,
and throw open the screen door like a big empty wind.
Mama! Some Mexicans jumped me!
They got the chicken bucket,
plus the rest of the money!

I look around the trailer.
Someone's taken all my old stuffed animals
and Barbies and torn them to pieces.
Fluff and arms and heads are all over the place.
I say someone did it,
but the only person around is Rick.
Mama is nowhere to be seen.
He cracks open another beer and says,
What chicken bucket?

Well, that was a long a time ago.
Rick and I got married
and we live in a trailer in Boron.
We don't live in a trailer park though—
in fact there's not another house around
for miles. But the baby keeps me
company. Rick says I'm becoming
quite a woman, and he's going to let Mama know that
if we ever see her again.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Cruising For Prostitutes

Motherfucker. I just found out my boyfriend's a prostitute.
And we were saving up to go on a cruise.
I went and got all these brochures
from the travel agent on my lunch hour.
Billy introduced and that motherfucker never said,
"Steve, meet Chet--he's a prostitute."
I think I would've remembered that.
I met Chet's family once, and they all seemed
perfectly normal. Not like prostitutes
or people who'd encourage
their son to become a prostitute.
But now that I think back on it, he never seemed
like he was paying attention, and he never got
mad. I thought he was just
stupid. So now I don't know
shit: are we still
going out? Is he going
to keep on being a prostitute?
Did that motherfucker Billy
know? Does Chet's family
know? Who else
knows? Has he even looked at
any of the brochures I brought home?
So what's it going to be?
The Fun Ship or the Love Boat?