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.
Copyright © Grace Helen | Year Posted 2017
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