Dinner

Rereadings DINNER ANA MIRANDA The table was set, I myself had arranged the plates, the glasses, the silverware, the napkins for pure lips, resigned to be part of a real world, I had waited for him for dinner for years, the desire to dine with him had grown, taken over my chest, and I now felt like screaming What are you going to eat? soon you'll discover tonight's main course, perfumed abandoned forlorn pulsating, black dress, black glove on only the left hand, pearl necklace, my souls argued within me and dragged themselves behind me like a furry tail, I approached the window, looked out at the street, lit a cigarette, smoked, Everything awaits you, smoke, hair tied-back, I was dragging my unconscious heart in the train behind me, damp, the doorbell rang, eight o'clock, I opened the door, his maritime eyes the body exposing the spirit, a surprising mirror and behind him was a man, both of them slightly drunk from something I don't know what, I brought a friend, as I closed the door I felt a knife unravelling my body, that friend behind him like his shadow and salvation, a piece of me everywhere, so helpless, any gesture at all, I feel so strangely distant, they drank whisky, they seemed to be part of the real world, slowly light began to fall on their bodies and faces, but shadows remained, nine o'clock, real, living men's bodies, why did he bring someone? is he afraid of me? his words, his smiles, his furtive glances at the walls of the house, all of it so profound, the moon's reflection lights up the sea and transforms its' submerged blackness, they didn't want any of my details to escape them, as if I were a huntress and they two prey sunken in the sofa, handsome and nervous, now drunken with me, eleven o'clock, This is the world, this is me, I enjoy looking through the window of my self, I'm going to put on a shawl, they whispered in the living room, stopped talking when I returned, I was conquered, My hair feels very cold, Light my cigarette, midnight , they looked at the clock, looked at the table, the clean plates, forks, two wine glasses, two o'clock, two female glasses drunk with the wine of a woman's body, they left thinking there was no dinner at all, I forgot to tell them the dinner was me. Translation by Shoshanna Lurie©1999 NUEVO TEXTO CRITICO Vol. XII No. 23/24, Enero a Diciembre 1999 ...