Homeland
The love story between a CIA operations officer assigned to the Counterterrorism Center –who is also bipolar and broken– and a former US Marine Corps platoon sergeant –who was also a prisoner of war and a terrorist or former terrorist or broken– is impossible.
Just by saying: Abu Nazir, Al-Qaeda, national security
Just by saying: Carrie is Carrie’s enemy, Brody is Brody’s enemy.
Just by saying: we’ll burn it all. The word hero. The word nobody. The word is.
A love story where electroconvulsive therapy, bulletproof vests, 24/7 surveillance services, double agents is impossible.
Just by saying: Baghdad, Langley, Delta Force.
No. That is not possible. Do not insist.
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Image by Gustavo Villegas
Homeland
Que no es posible la historia de amor entre una oficial de operaciones de la CIA asignada al Centro de Contraterrorismo –que además es bipolar y está rota– y un ex sargento de pelotón de los Marines de Estados Unidos –que ademásfue prisionero de guerra y es terrorista o ex terrorista o está roto–.
Baste decir: Abu Nazir, Al-Qaeda, seguridad nacional.
Baste decir: el enemigo de Carrie es Carrie, el enemigo de Brody es Brody.
Baste decir: lo quemaremos todo. La palabra héroe. La palabra nadie. La palabra es.
Que no es posible una historia de amor donde hay terapia electroconvulsiva, chalecos antibalas, servicios de vigilancia las veinticuatro horas del día, agentes dobles.
Baste decir Bagdad, Langley, Delta Force.
Que no. Que no es posible. Que no insistan.
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Sara Uribe is a Mexican poet living in Tamaulipas, Mexico. She is the author of seven poetry collections. Her poem Antígona González is a rewrite of Sophocles’s Antigone and a reflection on the violence of the Mexican drug war. The English version for the book is written by John Pluecker and will be published by Les Figues Press. Homeland first appeared in Spanish as part of the image and poetry project Gus Ultramar.
