Manuel Iris (Mexico, 1983). Poet, winner of the “Merida” National Poetry Award for the book Notebook of dreams (2010), and of the Rodulfo Figueroa Regional Award of Poetry for the book The disguises of fire (2014). Iris is the co-author, along with the Brazilian poet Floriano Martins, of Overnight Medley (Brazil, 2014). His work has been included in national and international anthologies of poetry, including Postal del oleage, anthology of Mexican and Colombian poets born in the 80s, published in both countries. Recently, two personal anthologies of his poetry have been published in Venezuela and El Salvador. Iris holds a PhD in Romance Languages from the University of Cincinnati.
Ecos Mordida por su edad mi abuela le habla al anterior que la vio por mis ojos: ¿No te dolió jamás dejarme así, con cinco niños? ¿No nos pensabas nunca? Me siento culpable del silencio que mi rostro, antes de mí, guardó pero le aclaro: amor, yo soy tu nieto, el primer hijo de tu hijo menor, soy el que vive lejos. Ya decía yo, me dice, que no tenía sentido que yo fuera una vieja y tú siguieras igual. Me abraza con alivio, como si esa conversación entre nosotros acabara pero sucederá, como es costumbre,
la siguiente vez que nos veamos.
Echoes Bitten by her age my grandmother speaks to the previous one that saw her through my eyes: Did it ever hurt you to leave me like this, with five children? You never thought about us? I feel guilty of the silence that my face, before myself, kept. but I clarify: my love, I am your grandson, the first child of your youngest son, I ‘m the one who lives far away. I was going to say! she tells me, that it didn’t make sense that I was so old and you were still the same. She hugs me with relief, as if this conversation between us was over. But it will happen, as usual, The next time we see each other.