Thursday, May 14, 2009
The Prima Vera Trees are Blooming
In the center of our plaza's a Prima Vera tree, gnarled and tall. And it's in full bloom. Bright yellow. Like bits of flowering sun. And pigeons sit in it. In spaces between the yellow sprays. The sea goes on forever. Today it's a medium blue. And our church is beautiful. All the tourists gawk.
Today, also, there are four Federal Policeman (Policia Federal). Two have handguns and two have (what appears to me to be) AK-47s. They're all dressed in black. The two with handguns have collared shirts. The other two are wearing t-shirts. One's scratching his cheek. One smiles at an old lady.
It's going to be a hot day. And humid. And I'm going to sweat. A lot. But now it's cool. Pigeons are splashing in the fountains. And the poems of my "Holocaust" keep coming: bits of bone and blood-- and light.
Here's the cover of today's newspaper: