Swimming in Blood

You feel your heart pump your blood

its pulse clearly audible in your mind.

Sound focusing your concentration.

That morning coming out of your casa

another sound caught your attention

the rush of sandals sliding across gravel.

The time is drawing near, you plan your

move, all outside influences silenced.

You check your position; the fold of the

cape; the angle of the blade; your stance.

You turned; a contorted face screamed;

hate and red crashed into your world;

and the bloody wetness smothered you.

matador de las criaturas de dios!

nadar en sangre, bestia del diablo!

Sideways, crablike, you shuffle toward it.

The sound of breath labouring, faltering:

smell the blood gushing from banderillas.

The police were called; she was arrested.

You made light of it, “otra mujer loca.” But

in your mind's eye, the bloody red rag flies.

You show the cape to tired confused eyes;

lift the sword level and focus; and take aim.

There’s a breeze; red flutters toward you.

You see a face of hatred; a face of revenge

Horns sharpened by nature pierce, but you

feel nothing; a swirling blue sky – blackness.

matador de las criaturas de dios!

nadar en sangre, bestia del diablo!