Mighty ghost

Mighty ghost
Mighty Ghost
By Édgar Javier Ulloa Luján

I, that orphan who played at cemeteries
along with the public parks that never existed.
Nobody knows about me.
I, a bad seed living amongst the dead
I’ve learned to wash my grandfather’s bloody clothes
akin to money laundering in casinos and bureaus de change.
I, a trafficker on a winged bus
headed for Mexico’s northern border
with narcocorridos of my drug cartel
headed for the weaponry empire
to run an errand in El Paso, Texas
across an international bridge
a bridge thwart a narrow contaminated canal
a bridge thwart a Bush’s hateful electric fence.
I, a smuggler in Tijuana’s underground tunnels
a murderer by trade.
No one blocks me; I sell at wholesale or retail;
I know how to control the deadly illegal market
and hide the traces
of my steps.
The goat horns: AK-47.

The fallen white feathers, practically spotless;
Guilty innocents.

Gone: a house left behind, and a neighborhood with no schools
Memory: my grandmother
a slave to the toxic manufacturing plant.
And my dream:
To triumph in soap operas.
Guns were my toys
days of yore, portrayed today
that die with spent cartridges
as well as the dead.
Whilst the poets write their poems,
I annihilate the poor
I do them a favor, so don’t fuck with me.

Traducido por Finella Halligan y Édgar Javier Ulloa Luján


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