Ode to the Bread Roll
Translated By Mahsa Hojjati
For Francisco X. Alarcón
Translated from the Spanish
Ay, goldo, goldito, goldo
with those sunbathed baby cheeks,
I want to gobble you up in kisses.
Please go on, you tanned flirt,
you ostrich wink,
lying down naked-toned
like a tamale stripped of leaves.
Inch closer to the table, baby,
because my hands long to be
top sheet and pillowcase
to masquerade as your bed
and meld their dreams to yours:
you, reflection of moon over lagoon;
them, parade of heron sticks
that make you jiggle jiggle
like marzipan gelatin.
With you even the soldier
surrenders and shows up to the barracks
firing off foolishness:
Ay, papacito, compact as a brick,
you broke my heart with a single blow. ¡Ajúa!
Ay, chaparrito, I came in one piece
until you scattered me like a jigsaw puzzle. ¡Ajúa!
I who only aimed to be
chief baker,
early rising nightingale,
stood too close to the oven
to romance the bread.
It singed my eyelashes.
It burned me down to poet.
I deliver in a clay tray
what’s left of words
to say—before
my mouth goes dry—
I won’t get jealous
if you run away
with him or them or her.
And if you’re aroused by them,
I won’t ask why.
I only beg that you
remember me, beloved.
And as remembrance
I’ll cherish what you leave me
of the crumbs and crusts.
Notes:
This poem is part of the Ruth Lilly Poetry Prize folio in the October 2025 issue of Poetry. Read the translator's note by Mahsa Hojjati.
Source: Poetry (October 2025)