i knew this would be a disaster
–what disaster? you say–
from the first moment our eyes met
in that long hallway
you walked towards me and i know
my smile said all you needed
i knew this would be a disaster
–what disaster? you say–
from those long calls where we said nothing
where we pretended we had stuff to talk about
and filled the long silences with awkward laughter
that said all we needed
i knew this would be a disaster
–what disaster? you say–
from that night when I chose to step away
at two a.m., a mistake i still regret
not making
and i said “i’m going to leave” and you said
“thank you”
and that was
all i needed
i knew this would be a disaster
–what disaster? you say–
from your arms holding me tight
and my body saying your chest was home
–i knew it couldn’t be
and i said it to myself
and tried to make that
all i needed–
i knew this would be a disaster
–what disaster? you say
as you hold on to my waist
and i hold to your neck
like two shipwreck survivors
in the middle of the ocean–
the thing you’re feeling as you read these lines
that
is the disaster.
Marianne Díaz Hernández (Altagracia de Orituco, Venezuela, 1985). Lawyer, writer and researcher in the intersection between human rights and technology. She has published: Cuentos en el espejo (Monte Ávila Editores, Caracas, 2008, winner of the Contest for Unpublished Authors of Monte Ávila Editores, Narrative), Aviones de papel (Monte Ávila Editores, Caracas, 2011) and Historias de mujeres perversas (El perro y la rana, Caracas, 2013, winner of the I Gustavo Pereira National Biennial of Literature, 2009), and has also been part of the compilations Antología sin fin (Escuela Literaria del Sur, 2013), Voices from the Venezuelan City (Palabras errantes, 2013) , and Nuevo País de las Letras (Banesco, Caracas, 2016). She co-founded the small press Casajena Editoras. Pieces of her work have been translated into English, French and Slovenian. She currently resides in Santiago de Chile.