pass…

 

He liked listening to Radio Tres.

The introductions and links assisted his Español,

  the recordings his understanding of serious music.

[he slouched on his cot, scrabbling with his fingers

 in the vegetable background of memory]

Every night on the bare mountain was as barren as the last.

 

On the overhead washing line, the Tibetan prayer flags

  were flying at half mast:

    half a lifetime was a cliché,

    Sofía a world away.

[the Madre never weeded beans.

  she looked after the investments and drove in a big limousine]

 

The future loomed imperfect,

  the past hovered in the present.

[there was a halo painted on the wall

 at the back of her absence]

The sky was blue, the earth red, the olives green.

All faded to secondary colours.

[bare feet on rare earth make no sound]

Mañana ever comes.

 

He needed a drink.

‘Juanito!’

 

 

 

Julian Isaacs

 

 

 

 

.

 

 


This entry was posted on in homepage and tagged . Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.