Monday, July 19, 2010

At the Funeral of a Murdered Woman

At the Funeral of a Murdered Woman

She prepared for the Via Crucis by putting the white silk mantilla on top of the peineta buried in her azabache hair.   La primera estación, hands clapped in dissonance, the torches were set on fire.  Brunilda emerged from the shadows chained to the wall, un alma en pena.  She dragged the long, heavy fetters a few steps before she tore off the bolero jacket and expose her small white breast. Then she darted into the crowd, her little feet hammering the wooden floor with a flamenco, arms outstretched until the chains gave out and her body threw itself to the ground. Her sisters stood and grabbed the chains around Brunilda's wrist, wrapped them around their own arms. The guitarist's widow grabbed the fetters too. All the women danced and flung themselves at the crowd. They pulled on the chains to haul their bodies up against the wall.  With arms still wrapped in shackles they ran into the crowd repeatedly until they were drenched in blood.  No man saw it fit to help.

flamingo shot behind
the palisade

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