Photo by Alexander Andrews on UnsplashPhoto

Who is in the dark houses?

by Irma Pineda, translated by Priya Venkatesan


The houses in this village

have worn out eyes.

they are looking for sand-bits on the beach.

our heads, the morning sun, el agua de los ríos

our clay-burnt hair speckled in soft & bold & red & black shades

are no more light, no more gold.

Who lives underneath the pink and yellow roofs?

Who is in the dark houses?


My village does not have a visible artery.

it does not pulse to the sound of the

the blue-green mountains

the roosters painted in red

the pathway that leads to my sea somber village.

Why do they all have a small one-mouth door agape

with no roof tile hair illuminating their caras?


The air is filled with moon & dust & wisps & corazons

Even the robbers and their antics are left with nothing to steal, nothing to preach.

did the unmistakable silence

Scare away the brown dogs and the small birds?

where did the people and the children and his soft mouth go?

Where in this village does my first lover contain mi familia, su hija?




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Priya Venkatesan

Priya Venkatesan

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