Translations
Ayacucho
by Julia Wong KcomtTranslated from Spanish by Jennifer Shyue
Death doesn’t hurt me
the medicine man hurts me
as he stares at an altar
The fuchsia of the women
hurts
selling carnations
hurts
tastes like
pork rind weeping
and deluge of grape
Twelve crosses
lifeless moons
And licking wounds
I stand watch, lit up
almost like a wax candle
duplicated triplicated
Almost like the others
recounting the crows—
so many, thousands
one for every forgetting.