Three Poems By Daniela Sánchez
Daniela Sánchez (Mexico City, 1998) studies Literature and Creative Writing in the University of the Cloister of Sor Juana (Universidad del Claustro de Sor Juana) in Mexico City. She also is studying engineering in innovation and design in the Panamerican University (Universidad Panamericana). She participated, as a writer, in the 2018 version of the Microfictions of the University of the Cloister of Sor Juana. In 2019; she coursed a diploma course in European Contemporary Literature in the Center of Literary Creation Xavier Villaurrutia. Currently, she is a Poetry editor and chief of translation in Cardenal Revista Literaria.
Sun was about to set
The Sun was about to set,
On the point of setting,
She got one hand out from her wide shelter,
And then the other
Maybe she saw you,
Or she just had one moment of insecurity
But she got up and ran,
Upstairs, towards the right,
Towards whatever side she could.
Now she makes believe,
With me, with you,
That neither of us knows endings
That sunset never occur
That the world is made of sunrises
And words are never painted purple.
Tell me a lie
Tell me, Fortune, when the world fails,
And when death turns itself into an open invitation for dinner,
Who can I reach?
Whose hand can I take?
I can’t hold the hand
From the man with a gown as white as his beard
Maybe the cards have more answers than he has.
I can’t, either, hold his cousin’s hand
He has a bloody beard and thorns instead of laurel.
Maybe I could ask the stars
They have already shaped my soul,
They have defined me in three parts.
Someday, maybe, they could tell me
How are they going to define me in the future.
If only I could hold my father’s hand,
But his world is as crooked as mine,
And he, just like me, doesn’t know how to fix it.
Someday we will look for, Fortune, some glue,
We could paste the pieces together with some theory,
Even though tomorrow it’ll fall again
If I stand on my head,
Could I delay, just a little, the last candle I will ever blow?
Tell me, Fortune, if I break you, if I crush your flour crust,
Could you tell me a secret?
One that will be mine, and mine only,
Tell me a lie, Fortune,
Tell me you know the future,
And that it is mine.
Just one letter
I’m just one letter,
One that has been written once and many times,
I wish I could be the letter a
I could be a rounder letter,
A more useful, a more comfortable one
But, I am not.
I’m an unpronounceable letter,
Located between a silent u
And an uncomfortable dieresis
Maybe it’s my fault,
I spent too much time looking at the stars
On the blank page,
I spent too much space looking for
The future tense on verbs,
Now, I’m lost, I never got to follow the others.
I’m just a tiny letter,
One that can be erased
With an eraser, with liquid paper,
I can be changed, I can be misspelled,
But, even the smallest of letters
Can complete the alphabet