Things We Lost in the Fire

by Mariana Enriquez

Constitución isn’t easy, and it’s beautiful: all those once-luxurious alcoves, like abandoned temples now occupied by unbelievers who don’t even know that inside those walls hymns to old gods once rang out.

Maybe I wasn’t the princess in her castle; maybe I was a madwoman locked in her tower.

When he saw her, he gave a startled jump but didn’t get up. He is also lazy, and he’s getting fat. I don’t like fat men.

I thought about beautiful bodies like Vera’s, if she were whole: white bones that shine under the light in forgotten graves, thin bones that sound like little party bells when they hit against each other, frolicking in the fields, doing dances of death.

Maybe he decided that his sadness was going to be my companion forever, for as long as he wanted, because sad people are merciless.

The horror comes not only from turning our gaze on desperate populations; it comes from realizing the extent of our blindness.