Every House Learnt How to Burn

Every House Learnt How to Burn
Photo by Jeff Kramer (copied from Flickr)

Photo by Jeff Kramer (copied from Flickr)

One: Is it possible that I once..? That I? That before?

Two: Yes, it is possible that your name.

One:

Two: It is possible the bodies.

One:

Two: It is possible that your name and the bodies. That you once. That before.

One: And the isles? The conversations? The delay?

Two:

One: The houses we abandoned? All those patios?

Two:

One: Did we leave the lights on? Did we leave the doors unlocked?

Two:

One: Were we the ones that on escaping..?

Two: Yes, it’s possible we were the ones. It’s possible; all the patios and all the doors, and all those abandoned houses with the lights on. The delay and the conversations; but not the isles. Those belong to fiction and asylum.

One: Let’s say, was there ever an isle bearing your name? Was there a before? Was there an I?

Two: Yes, there was a name and there were the bodies; a before and an us.

One: There was an I, then. Isles.

Two: It’s also possible that I was lying and that the isles, and the I, and the could have.

One:

Two: It’s also possible that I wasn’t lying and that in present tense there are no hurries and no escapes. No nothing.

One:

Two:

One: Is the isle of us possible?

Two: Yes, it is possible. The journey and the delay. Yes.

One:

Two:

One:

Two:

One:

Two:

One: But, is it also possible you are lying?

Two: Yes, it is possible; the name, the I, the isles.

Translation by Diego Gómez Pickering

Sara Uribe lives in northern Mexico. Her most recent book, Antigone Gonzalez (2nd. Edition, South +, 2013), explores strategies documentary writing, conceptual and poetic writing on issues around violence, and body language.

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