Transcultura or First Last Day

Born into the wrong culture/time/language?

“To be ill adjusted to a deranged world is not a breakdown,” 

Winterson writes, and I hope she’s 

right because I’m (a senior dammit, apply to college)

 

growing rough around the edges, hair dissolving, one fingernail jabbing, 

thickening and hurt

 

growing rough inside the edges, heart dilating, words colliding, 

confusing and wild

 

Grease spilling through the diamonds of a fence netting, bulging and hideous

yet never able to quite fall into the earth

Instead, frying, popping, evaporating into nonexistence

dripping into cave pools, gone before understood

 

Pero en el cielo giran nubes blancas de sueño

y en el infierno giran fuegos negros de amor

nunca volveré jamas… 

ni al este tiempo ni a la gente que lo habitaba

 

(But in heaven wheel white clouds of dreams

and in hell swirl black fires of love

I’ll never return…

neither to this time nor the people that inhabit it)

 

Jagged, cristalizado, desaparecido

 

(Jagged, crystallized, the disappeared)

 

Trickling from a nozzle, lost

to the Vastness of the world

but el desafío solo vive entre dos personas

(but the challenge lies only between two persons)

Sería altanera to assume some higher plane of influence

(It would be arrogant… )

 

Collapsing, la vida crying, la vida, keening

for a hand to be held

in your lap.