I look in your eyes, but you don’t recognize me, how long life seems to you in this tiny body, your dirty hair, just as dirty as your father’s. Oh, sweet girl with a wolf’s eyes, I’d tear my skin off to wrap you in it, girl-kalashnikov, how […]
I saw it snow, in Rosario, on a sunny day Let’s see if someone gets what I’m saying. We were on the first level of a parking garage. We got out, ensconcing our hands in the openings in our clothing. A man passed too close in his car, […]
The guys would leave us behind and go out hunting in their pickup truck. Us girls would remain chatting about nothing. The stories they would bring back were always the same. El Flaco told me one of the nights they saw two eyes shining, Facu aimed and put […]
“I worked with death in my heart for a month.” And eyes overflow at the thought of nights when on the other side of the bed a river was blocked slow with garbage. And then in deep sleep a giant dock reconnected life with four bridges. For twenty […]
The identical nine-story apartments in the city of N. seem to have risen in the small hours of the morning and are now standing, single file, ready to witness the sunrise. In the pale light, the giants look alive. Behind them, buildings of all sizes, eager to join in, stretch […]
spoon in sleep, the body collects the night. Swarms awaken buried in the chest, spread wings. How many animals migrate in us passing through our heart, resting in the curve of our hip, between the branches of our ribs, how many would rather not be us, not to […]
We spoke of moving, of finally asking for a mortgage to get a larger house. That night we decided to stop using condoms. And while you entered within me, while you entered, I imagined which would be our daughter’s room and made a list in my head: buy […]
Download the PDF file . Mónica Ramón Ríos was born in Santiago de Chile. She is the author of the novel Segundos (2010) and the twin novels Alias el Rucio and Alias el Rocío (2014-2015). As a scholar, she has written extensively on Latin American literature and […]
In the half empty cab of the bus an old man rooted in the corner is trying to fall asleep and this attempt becomes the content of his dream. Someone had forgotten a photo album on the front seat. The car searches out the road in lunges propelled along […]
September, the white-washed paws of the pups, wrinkled, gravelly. The soft smoke of the trampled foliage doesn’t lie down but is as a presence in the alleyway covered with the rude words of boys and soot. The wind has apparently found us out behind the bakhcha* Where the little […]