I like Stories with Bitches as Characters  

Lourdes Vázquez

Translation by Enriqueta Carrington

 

 

True bitches:  the one who desires her progeny

the one who abandons it

the one who guards it jealously

the one who despises it

the one who kills the puppies

 

the pack of mongrel bitches

who wander

around my mother's neighborhood

without anything being done about it

howling + bloody +

destroying their pieces

for the sake of carnal odors,

of she-animal fights.

 

My sister and her love for bitches.

My father declaring his yard a burial ground for bitches.

 

My neighbor's dog, small, white, furry.  She carries her around in her purse with the  little dancing head looking out at everybody in the train, which she has taken at West 4th  station.  People smile when they see the little furry one.  At 14th Street a cop pushes through.  He tries to board the train in the middle of the crowd and PAFFFFFF! the cudgel sets loose and whacks the animal.

Has anything been left of the poor thing?

The islands of Sicily and Tortola have the same climate.  Everything that grows in Sicily grows in Tortola.  I have lived on both islands and when I would finish a poem such as this one, I'd put it into an envelope and give it to any fisherman who was about to go out to high sea.  Fishermen always travel to larger lands to sell their catch.   The fishermen give the envelope to a pilot and the pilot delivers it at the other side of the sea, to be published and read.  We've seen so many bitches on these islands.  They arrive with the fishermen, pups, old ones + they go off to the mangrove swamps and the hills where they reproduce, feeding on everything that moves around them.

 

 

Dog = "mammal, carnivorous, domestic, of very variable size, shape and fur according to the breed.  A sharp sense of smell and some intelligence.  Profoundly loyal." = Reads the dictionary.

 

 

Dulce,

 

 

That freckled bitch.

 

 

WAS HOT!!!}

Was hot!!!

 

 

That is to say, all the males went after her.  One night four dogs ambushed her.  We tried to get the males off her.  How?  One throws boiling water at the male's member. Note that the member is red, burning with blood.  One strikes the male's back with a cane as many times as may be necessary.  One must strike hard, until the pain in the bones is stronger than lust.

 

I've never had Dulce's good fortune, or rather that intensity and I don't know whether these days I love Dulce or I hate her.

 

 

 

A bitch was watching Mariana hemming the \italic{puertorriqueña} flag.  Mariana was sitting in a soft easy chair.  Two cushions against the back-rest. The easy chair was placed in front of her window, over there in the Bronx, to be precise.  It was winter and Mariana preferred natural light to yellow irregular candlelight, that's why she was in front of that window.

 

Here is Mariana hemming our flag.  The black, golden-spotted bitch  climbed onto the window-sill.  Mariana has decided to open the window.   -- Get outta here, you're blocking my view!.

 

Voilà!!!

 

 

The bitch was frightened, she took a false step, plunging down five stories.  She's fallen with a wallop on the sidewalk, her skull opened in a thousand smithereens.  A woman in scanty clothing, her blouse loaded with brooches, hoops in her earlobes, gold bracelets + rings, stopped beside the corpse only for a few moments and went on her way.