This poem is taken from PN Review 262, Volume 48 Number 2, November - December 2021.
Three Poems
Santiago Afternoon
Very sad very sad, the tiles
on the floors are very sad
and the fountains. Fat cabs
with fat drivers leaning out.
Austere official
buildings stand in the sun
that drops at an angle.
The general sweat, Irish,
African, Latin, native,
more in it for the connoisseur
than in any wine cellar,
and all the sun’s vineyard anyway.
Facaded townhouses,
hands in their pockets.
Here are some people posed
...
Very sad very sad, the tiles
on the floors are very sad
and the fountains. Fat cabs
with fat drivers leaning out.
Austere official
buildings stand in the sun
that drops at an angle.
The general sweat, Irish,
African, Latin, native,
more in it for the connoisseur
than in any wine cellar,
and all the sun’s vineyard anyway.
Facaded townhouses,
hands in their pockets.
Here are some people posed
...
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