The Consecration Of Coffee
to Archbishop Oscar A. Romero
One day of god
drinking coffee in my patio
nothing is normal—
not the calla
with its penis of gold
nor the iris
like purple lava
a volcano spills.
I find in the depths of the cup
chasubles embroidered
with black moths
& red stains—
the sun fires
a scintillation of silver bullets
& of candles drowned—
there is blood in its shine.
I place the cup on its saucer
with a most tender care
as if it were a chalice
& say the litany:
Guatemala
Nicaragua
El Salvador
& one side of my heart
tastes white & sweet
like cane sugar
& the other,
like coffee,
bitter & black.
© Rafael Jesús González 1999
No comments:
Post a Comment