El Toro

A square of sand is no place to die
On a sunny afternoon.
With people around,
Watching. Cheering.

My body is my glory,
Muscle, strength, blood and iron
Perfection
As even they say.

And sigh as the picador
Stabs me in the shoulder with his spear
From the safety of a padded horse,

And cheer as the banderillero
Sticks the barbed spears in me
Like regalia.

When the pink and yellow cape draws me on
Waving back and forth in my face
They cry Ole.

Soon the muleta, red on a stick
Will come in
I wonder if you know why it’s red?

So that you don’t see where I bled
So that you can live your fantasy
Of Manuelitos, and Lorcas,

Of tales by Hemingway
And a brave old world.
Where killing perfection is OK.

And I grin my bloody grin
Try to hook the popinjay in the suit of lights
Who torments me in this place
I never wanted to see.

And, because this game has rules
I play by those rules, and let him get away. And I die.

Ole.

Copyright B Purkayastha 2006