By MAR ALZAMORARIVERA TRANSFUGUERATIONS THREE MOMENTS For Lord Flaca Reflections that spark and turn me into a song every time you conform to my murderous claws and howl. 1. The frosty light sketches, against the sun, my body on the yellow wall. There are nostalgic voices that the cat eats from the window. Voices. Only whispered voices beneath the fan. Fangs that scratch at my conscience. That disfigure me. 78 Follow me! We’ll go back to my cave Surrounded by blood and stabbing pains, the ones that resuscitate me when you return to my pubis in that other way of being you. Suddenly, time’s logic dies and we draw the curtain to avoid the sun. 2. You smell like everything I want, you say Then the muchacha de ojos tristes hiding under my nails comes back to me. 3. There’s no winning against the incapacity of distance, no exceptions. Since I found you every night is blue.