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En la calle San Sebastián
Viejo San Juan, Puerto Rico 1998
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Here in a bar on the street of the saint
- en la calle San Sebastián,
- a
dancer in white with a red red scarf
- en la calle San Sebastián,
- calls to the gods who were freed by slaves
- en la calle San Sebastián,
- and his bronze face is a lantern of sweat
- en la calle San Sebastián,
- and hands smack congas like flies in the field
- en la calle San Sebastián,
- and remember the beat of packing crates
- en la calle San Sebastián,
- from the days when overseers banished the drum
- en la calle San Sebastián,
- and trumpets screech like parrots of gold
- en la calle San Sebastián,
- trumpets that herald the end of the war
- en la calle San Sebastián,
- as soldiers toss rifles on cobblestone
- en la calle San Sebastián,
- and the saint himself snaps an arrow in half
- en la calle San Sebastián,
- then lost grandfathers and fathers appear
- en la calle San Sebastián,
- fingers tugging my steel-wool beard
- en la calle San Sebastián,
- whispering your beard is gray
- en la calle San Sebastián,
- spilling their rum across the table
- en la calle San Sebastián,
- till cousins lead them away to bed
- en la calle San Sebastián,
- and the dancer in white with a face of bronze
- en la calle San Sebastián,
- shakes rain from his hair like the god of storms
- en la calle San Sebastián,
- and sings for the blood that drums in the chest
- en la calle San Sebastián,
- and praises the blood that beats in the hands
- en la calle San Sebastián,
- en la calle San Sebastián.
from
Alabanza: New & Selected Poems |
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