for Pablo García Baena
The bodies were still in the sand
at the edge of the water, sweetly
fugitive, or a little more over here
on the grass, when it turns into
a completely urban shore.
The bodies were still in the sand,
and the Christs and Virgins passed
over the Roman bridge, vertical,
while below the horizontal ones
stretched their nap until seven.
The April sun fell warm and benevolent.
They shared the petals, the music,
the march, trumpets, the old
kettledrums. The incense
didn’t make distinctions. Signs of glory,
it reached the nudes like something
natural, they didn’t even move
in their principled paganism.
Catholic chaos. The apotheosis.
The juxtaposition. The most perfect
way to know. Some believe, firmly
the contrary, even the incompatible,
are only synonyms.
The bodies were still in the sand.
Translated by Curtis Bauer
“Holy Thursday” was published in Eros Is More (Alice James Books, 2014).
You can read and listen the poem in the original Spanish here.