The Matador’s Cemetery
2016
Flags draw her in close
A Spanish moss forming next to
radiant bark
feels warm but quiescent
Unmoving
I’m ashamed to think of her in this way
and so I make my way to the plaza
to think of something else
A play is being put on
by her father in the town square
at midnight
It is too long
to wait for something interesting to happen
and then all of a sudden
I am thinking of her again
The play is about
the death of an immigrant heron
come to roost with rooks
by accident
Careful notes are pinned to the walls
some written in a hand so light
I just pretend they are blank sheets
there to make the corridor rustle
a yard full of leaves
The High Priest cups the flame
brings it to the lips of a candle
and lets it kiss it to life
after a moment of playful resistance
Boards are finally removed
from the entrance to the sanctuary
Coiled against the fallen bricks
and masonry tools are seven gray doves
each with its own motive
One dove in partial light
pretends to be a sardine
It shakes and writhes with agility
a convincing display but even Miguel knows
in the end
the dove is real
and not a sardine
Coffee born at 4am in the Cafe San Superiere
carried in short squat mugs
across the wide breasts of the old woman
who has worked there for 40 years
There are no trays here
The coffee can’t be too hot
or she would be scarred
I chance a look at her chest and deduce that
the temperature must have always been perfect
A Gideon’s Bible
flutters down
from the third floor of the hotel
It makes for the fire escape
but is swallowed instead
by the cardboard boxes and plastic bakery crates
that line the north wall
The faint sound of piano practice comes
into sharp focus, a repetitive introduction
Pon-pon-pon-paaaan
Pon-pon-pon-paaaan
Pon-pon
the piano is horribly out of tune and the practice
is already over
even as I’m deciding to stand up
The cemetery workers idle on shovels
and the one with the cartoon face
takes out a lighter
while the one with the face I can’t see
mouths a cigarette
He cups the flame
brings it to the lips of the cigarette
and lets it kiss it to life
after a moment of playful resistance
