EFREN
PRIETO
GRANDEAN
ARABASQUE
After
Jose Joya
But
look closely now.
Perhaps
your fearful eyes
Failed
to notice
This
stroke of nobility
Hiding
behind its own radiance:
Beneath
the glare of white,
A
gleam of gold.
Look
even closer.
How
this canvas becomes
A
conflagration of hues!
Melting
wet pigments
Until
it drips
Hands
Veins
Wings.
There,
do you see it?
A
dancer glides in saffron tulle,
Her
leg pointing towards infinity.
Or
maybe that,
A
cluster of glittering topazes
Caressing
a rich woman’s neck.
//
Or
this.
Ah
this!
A
flock of canaries hurrying
To
perch
On
a solitary branch.
In
the afternoon heat,
Their
souls flutter
Like
a hundred
Golden
silences.
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