To the Man Who Shouted “I Like Pork Fried Rice” at Me on the Street弗兰妮·蔡

写给那个当街冲我嚷“我喜欢猪肉炒饭”的男人光诸 译


you want to eat me
你想要把我剥出来吃了,
out. right. what does it taste like
来啊。你觉得把我从这身牛仔服里
you want to eat me right out
剥出来,当成一些更便宜点,更好咬,
of these jeans & into something
更好消化的东西吃掉,
a little cheaper. more digestible.
会是什么味道?
more bite-sized. more thank you


如果这样我求之不得:
come: i am greasy
对你来说我太腻了。每天早上
for you. i slick my hair with msg
我用味精滑润头发。我是坏东西。
every morning. i’m bad for you.
我在你的牙齿间弄出了一些红灯区。
got some red-light district between
它的味道就像我双腿间的外卖盒:
your teeth. what does it
我就是塑料袋女郎。对付我的方式,
taste like: a takeout box
就是用廉价的白叉子劈成两半。
between my legs.

plastic bag lady. flimsy white fork
味道就像干鱿鱼。嘴唇在盐中肿起。
to snap in half. dispose of me.
嘴唇充溢着异物,于是叫我

“猪肉”。卷着尾巴在泥里乱滚的
taste like dried squid. lips puffy
下流玩意儿。脏肉。你肠子里的肉虫。
with salt. lips brimming

with foreign so call me
让你生病。死肉。被屠夫剁碎的女孩,
pork. curly-tailed obscenity
包在泡沫塑料里。你这个毫不隐瞒的食人族。
been playing in the mud. dirty meat.
你想要我缩到适合咀嚼的尺寸,
worms in your stomach. give you
没有卡住你喉咙的眼珠。

但是我一直在屠宰场看得清楚。
a fever. dead meat. butchered girl
从你把我列为“可吃”一类的那天起。
chopped up & cradled
最终你把我扔给了一个厨子。幸运的男人。
in styrofoam. you candid cannibal.
走一趟拿走你的东西,说自己是“考古学家”。
you want me bite-sized

no eyes clogging your throat.
但是仔细听着,

听你牙缝里的吱嘎声,
but i’ve been watching
听我在你臼齿间母猪一样的尖叫。
from the slaughterhouse. ever since
看那食盐觉醒,
you named me edible. tossed in
扭痛你的神经。
a cookie at the end. lucky man.
看我鲤鱼打挺重新活过来。
go & take what’s yours.
看我的触手和牙齿。看我
name yourself archaeologist but
复生的电力。

listen carefully
这些尝起来像:
to the squelches in
复仇
your teeth & hear my sow squeal
在你齿间活跃地蠕动,
scream murder between
从内到外,
molars. watch salt awaken
安静地绞死你。
writhe, synapse.
watch me kick
back to life. watch me tentacles
& teeth. watch me
resurrected electric.

what does it
taste like: revenge
squirming alive in your mouth
strangling you quiet
from the inside out.

Source: Poetry (March 2014).


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