Mariano Zaro is the author of three poetry books: Where From/Desde Donde (Bay Books, Santa Monica), Poems of Erosion/Poemas de la erosión and The House of Mae Rim/La casa de Mae Rim (both with Carayan Press, San Francisco). His poems have been included in the anthologies Al Aire Nuevo (San Luis Potosí, Mexico), New Baroque (Los Angeles), LA Melange (Los Angeles) and Luces y Sombras (Tafalla, Spain). As a fiction writer, his short stories have appeared in several literary journals in  Spain and the United States: Menos 15, El signo del gorrión, Caracola, The Louisville Review, Poeticdiversity, The Baltimore Review, Pinyon and The Portland Review. In 2004 he received the Roanoke Review Short Fiction Prize. He earned a Ph.D. in Linguistics from the University of Granada and a Master´s in Literature from the University of Zaragoza. He conducts poetry workshops and he currently teaches Spanish and Spanish Literature at Whittier College, Rio Hondo College and Pasadena City College. 

At the door

At the door
a still shadow
the size of a coin.
I don’t know if it’s
a leaf
or an insect.
Suddenly
it opens its antennae.
Maybe that’s why
I came here—
to remember
astonishment.

Ante la puerta

Ante la puerta
un bulto quieto
del tamaño de una moneda.
No sé si es
una hoja
o un insecto.
De repente
Extiende las antenas.
Quizá para eso
vine hasta aquí,
para recordar
el asombro.

I remove my shoes
 
I remove my shoes.
The bare foot
does not distinguish
inside
and outside,
the limits
of the house,
the border
of lip
and dark fruit
when you bite.

Me quito los zapatos
 
Me quito los zapatos.
El pie descalzo
no distingue
dentro
y fuera,
los límites
de la casa,
la frontera
de labio
y fruta oscura
en tu mordida.

Symmetrical disposition

Symmetrical disposition
of patios, altars and gardens.
To the right,
a vase
enameled with dragonflies,
another one, identical,
to the left.
Also symmetrical—
our bodies,
shipwrecked,
parallel
in a guest bed
between rest
and pause,
surrendered to routine,
pale,
articulated by resentment
and in the angle of knees
that touch, accidentally,
still, the last
vertebra of tenderness.

Disposición simétrica

Disposición simétrica
de patios, altares y jardines.
A la derecha
una vasija
esmaltada de libélulas,
otra idéntica
a la izquierda.
Simétricos también
nuestros cuerpos
náufragos,
paralelos
en una cama huésped
entre el descanso
y el cese,
rendidos a la costumbre,
pálidos,
articulados de resentimiento
y en el ángulo de las rodillas
que casualmente se tocan,
todavía, una última
vértebra de ternura.

From The House of Mae Rim/La casa de Mae Rim
(Carayan Press, San Francisco, 2008)

© 2009 Mariano Zaro