For your first, mortuarial
\nanniversary, I managed it,
\nmy finest trick: I became you<\/p>\n
yes, I pulled off the skin-
\nchanging thing by flinging
\nmyself up in the air and banging <\/p>\n
back down on my left
\narm: banjaxed. I was
\na barmy, splintered Boney<\/p>\n
in a black sling as they drove me
\nto your memorial mass,
\nfuming at having to be zipped up<\/p>\n
buckled in, shovelled out,
\nturning the air foul with my
\nlocker-room bawling<\/p>\n
raining hexes on all drivers,
\nthreatening blue murder,
\nboxing the enemy with one arm tied<\/p>\n
around my neck\/your neck,
\nhead-butting the sun, moon and
\nstars for their part in the conspiracy.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
The surprise of the Plaza Mayor,
\na perfect circle, cupped by latticed
\nbalconies, with sand underfoot
\nand a wrought iron lamp-post
\nat the bull\u2019s-eye. Tiered seats
\nare garlanded in red and yellow
\nand in summer, amateur matadors <\/p>\n
taunt young bulls in the arena.
\nAll day I sleep, till flagstones cool
\nand I can take my seat at the bar
\nbeneath the wooden boxes, wait
\nfor the old man\u2019s traversal.
\nStarched and pleated, but crooked,
\nhe leans heavily on his stick as he creaks <\/p>\n
across the empty circus each night at nine.
\nHe\u2019s thin as an eyelash in the dust,
\nthin as the minute hand on the clock
\nof the bell-tower, and as he moves
\nslowly along the diagonal, all my dead
\nmove into formation behind him:
\nmy thin father \u2013 bent over a stick, too \u2013<\/p>\n
my mother with her one breast,
\neleven aunts and uncles, countless
\ncousins. With them troop the dead
\nyet to come, their names refusing
\nto be written in the sand. And we
\nare there too, you and I, in the white
\nbull-ring, each hot, empty evening of July <\/p>\n
as the crooked man paddles in a pool
\nof dusty shadows, as the spider-leg
\nclock-hands hit nine, as the bell-notes
\nfall into the wooden bowl of the plaza.
\nIt\u2019s not hard to imagine black horses
\nin procession, festooned with pompoms,
\nand women in black lace mantillas,
\nhiding their faces behind fans.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
Fractured For your first, mortuarial anniversary, I managed it, my finest trick: I became you yes, I pulled off the skin- changing thing by flinging myself up in the air and banging back down on my left arm: banjaxed. I was a barmy, splintered Boney in a black sling as they drove me to your […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":223,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false,"jetpack_publicize_message":"","jetpack_is_tweetstorm":false,"jetpack_publicize_feature_enabled":true,"jetpack_social_post_already_shared":true,"jetpack_social_options":[]},"categories":[346,349],"tags":[],"jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"yoast_head":"\n