In the corner near
The standing lamp is
A painting of a picador
With arched back and up-thrust
Arms just then ridden into place.
What happens next, what we are
Not allowed to see, is the
Down-thrust of his lance
Preparing the bull for eternity.
Is it worthwhile now to
Reach around and grasp
A lance, ease it out if one
Still has the strength, reach then
For the other if there be two
Or possibly three if one
In one’s younger days
Was especially fierce? I let
Mine hang, dragging along
Behind upon the ground,
Looking instead ahead
For the matador.
No comments:
Post a Comment