I
Stooped beneath the
Arc de Triomf
Pelting thunderstorm
Beaten
II
Las Ramblas
Still undulating sidewalk
Unsteady steps to water
Wading
III
Raining Tuesday
La Sagrada Familia
Long away from home, wet
sublimity
I
Stooped beneath the
Arc de Triomf
Pelting thunderstorm
Beaten
II
Las Ramblas
Still undulating sidewalk
Unsteady steps to water
Wading
III
Raining Tuesday
La Sagrada Familia
Long away from home, wet
sublimity
Siesta by Spencer Reece
Oh people not mine
what is it we can hear
the old custodian
coddles the tin box
in the empty church
the ex-monk clips
his lime tree just so
my soiled skin flensed
from my uniform
Jesus said to them
oh ye of little faith
Ayamonte is golden
the sun rakes over us
meticulous and slow
a mutt with cataracts
licks its parts ticking
Portugal lies exposed
on her soft cheap cot
passive and docile unlike
that bull that is Spain
the sea’s lips scold me
in that Spanish way
gentle and yet firm
nothing here is mine