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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