Barcelona Bullfight




Latch lifts, leaps open
frigid falsetto metal
CRACK!
anticipation animates…

OLÉ! OLÉ! OLÉ!

dodging, matador red cape sailing,
cuts an assaulting armada through atmosphere of dust
salt and sand sprays - stings the eyes
round and round
stomping hooves, tearing turf, canon crowd cries, charging
nose scrapes soiled ground, lunging- OLÉ!

fresh blood accelerating through ejaculating veins,
surfacing beneath black velvet fur,
glazed silver with sweat;

OLÉ! and stabbing; six
spikes now in bloodied nape, shaking, shimmering, sword striking
shoulder, blade to blade- stabbing, stumbling,
vomit,
vomiting blood, crimson, CHARGING!

RAGE! RAGE! RAGE TORO!!

anger and frenzy collide in climax,
chaos and circles
blood and charging,
olé and bleeding,
bleeding, charging,
disoriented in exhaling breath of dust
rapid respiration
round and round
revealed arteries surrender pulsing,
red cape flash-

OLÉ!

...now a pause.
Matador winks at a seniorita in the crowd.
His gait, swaggering confidently, controlled in bright ceremonial costume. Bull, standing, staggering, bleeding, staring,
spikes still sticking in his nape, teetering reeds in wind,
blood dripping subdued, tapping silent, scarlet onto earth from his protruding tongue, a planting seed, vomiting;

Matador returns with a sword, shining silver from its sheath,
the Spanish sun
a cloudy hush;
tin band begins
playing, it is done-
olé.


Painting: "The Bull Fight" by Joan Miro