andalusian love poem, #4
Saturday May 9, 2009
we rise like bread and fall like rivers.
i step into rivers daily here.
the time that passes between
getting wet and reaching the ocean at cadiz:
the people here call la precesión.
i watch them pass, with drums and bobbing statues.
mostly the elderly follow;
the youth have itchy asses they scratch with soda straws
no one talks of winning
but of salvation
I cross myself and hope to die
if I must
beneath you
