Sol y Sombra


I admire the scraped nape and vaseline-smooth
shining hair on senoritas dressed for toros
young girls bright as jewels
incandesce in flamenco dress
gorgeous enough to catch the eye of any matador
but he yearns only for time enough to kiss a crucifix

I saw them chariot in Fran Rivera and Cayetano
listened for the chilling call of bugles
as I sat in the dusted stone circle
(where eyes must compute sol y sombra)
to witness an officer be proud to cry out loudly
“a man is risking his life here today!”

and I love the old roués (assassins in the crowd)
sitting meekly with wives and children
crossing themselves while they pray
for the life of the dark dandy
bloody but unbowed in a golden suit of lights
orchestrating la muerta just for them

F you enjoyed this poem have a look at my poem En Ronda

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