Tuesday, February 28, 2017

Invitation to Dust









Invitation to Dust

Am I poet or sheet of paper, my soul asks in the cruel infinite
/night of the sea that is never serene…
Manuel Ramos Otero, Invitación al Polvo

You, Manuel, the seductive arch
of a bay, a drop descending

on the half-light, feet circling
my suicide hour.

We were tangueros* of the same tile, tropical
byway, creek mist, and love's insomnia.

Dancers with the white
silent breeze of despair.

*Boleristas take their stilettos
for a stroll while you burn your tongue,

nail it to your pride.
I spit on you, all you neutered men

and women frightening children
playing in schoolyards.

You’re nothing but
a simple invitation to dust.  

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