Tuesday, March 02, 2010

After Mal Dormidos, a recent poem.

The day I got hit in the head was a hot day,
the last day of the Carnaval and we sat at a
table at a bar owned by the family.

There were many there - kids and cousins
come and go 'round the tables of the Bodeca
then on the dancefloor my wife said:

"Can you get a beer for us?
Would you like to sit down?
Senta Aqui."

After she went for a haircut sat there with
all the women, it was so hot then Z. said lets make
a trip to the cemetery and visit Dona Veridiana

in the nursing home; the home is divided one
for the men and one for the women and we met
an old woman who lived next door who says

that she knows me. Do you know my name asks
Dona V. in her room as she points to a picture of
her husband she looks at me but I do not speak

Portuguese. My wife is holding a bag of peppers
that she got from Gia Terezinha I say to Dona V.
in English (please translate) I do no know much

about this place nor am I from here but I will try
to treat my wife tenderly.


Anonymous Anonymous said...

H'm, nice one Cyril. The opposite kind of endeavour and effect of poetry's usual distillations, but still affecting and a poem.

To mirror your recent remark, this is the most active I've been since... I last farted. You can delete that bit if you want.

5:22 pm  

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