Santa Eulalia

I thought I saw The stones almost breathing, Trembling above an archway in perilous union, Gargantuan slabs of slate sit Atop rotten roof rafters Splintering through their wormy hearts And weathered walls. The beating wind That grinds and gnaws, The pock marked surfaces And goat licked canyons Caving in like Las Medullas, Termite mounds of rust And phantom limbs of chestnut trees. Abandoned but for tourist click Of shutters decaying inwards To shadows cool with piercing eyes, & the goats rest on the broken Blue balcony, looking out, To bright clear heat rising.