From Dissolve

San Miguel


There is a sudden downpour
and people cluster waiting
in the cove of the cathedral.
Under each arc of eve—
rain black doves.
“It is very beautiful”.
“Yes, yes”,
a strange man agrees twice.
Orange lilies lie wilting
in the heat. Candles
of torn sunlight slip over us.
I have a fever and need ice.
The beggars of alms
hold out palms full of rain.
And the thunder, and
then counting the fierce
voices in the sky.
What can I bring
to bring you these stained bells,
the scent of creosote and chili,
each bent back of each woman
across the square weaving
baskets, selling sliced cactus
and pale pink carnations?
Three days I’ve had no bath,
should step out in the water
and be cleaned.
And I can’t believe
you aren’t with me—
a lost color,
a breathless lung.
Now people are leaving
the shelters of doorways
for rough cobblestone streets,
everyone watching the sky,
and when the shower has passed
an old man exits the chapel
arms laden with huge lilies
white and fragrant,
fragrant, white.



©2011 Holaday Mason