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Board Administrator Username: mjm Post Number: 4665 Registered: 11-1998 |
Poem of the Week The Beaches of Spain Caballo Oscuro The beach of Salobrena is empty miles of gray. We threw pebbles into the sea and not one seagull noticed, so we caught a bus going south, and found Benalmadena with its sleepy fishermen’s cats and a horse waiting outside a bar. You stroked his ears, and I knew you were planning a tryst to gallop together under the moon, on silver wet sand, sometime. So I took you back to Malaga again, and watched you grow tall, gathering shells and speaking with a Garcia Lorca accent. That night, you painted me with surreal shadows lent from shutters in an old hostel, and asked where we would lay our heads next. Thirty-nine years ago, you were laid new in your mother’s arms; today, you are across the beachside table from me, and after rain the sun came to celebrate, and turned the sands to gold. Today is wondering if we can walk to Puerto Banus. Today is looking at street sculpture and kissing under balcony flowers. Tonight, I will make special, and find guitars somewhere. Between the beaches of Spain there are castles and great ships, abandoned rusty cars and foxes dead on the road. But the orange groves that laze down to the shore and the great Alhambra’s fountains speak to me of timelessness. Our history is no more than two souls on a beach, watching the sun prepare for sleep, and allowing her silence. |
