Poetry - Issue 13 | September 2011

Barcelona

by Lisa


Barcelona

I
I am walking to Montjuic
with midnight in my hand.
I expect she will kiss me
long after the flamenco
dancers leave.

II
The sky runs away
from something up there
in Barcelona. I watch the clouds
and wonder who is their enemy.

III
I leave two euros and a lock
of my hair in a ditch
on the playa. This is my tomb,
no doubt I will be dead
when I leave this country.

IV
I watch the castle sitting
like a humming mother
from a window on
Saragossa.
She makes eyes
at me.

V
I write my name
on the wall of a dollhouse
when the lightening strikes.
This is the way we stay alive.

VI
I touch the head of a gargoyle
and a black bird lands beside
my fingers. He admires
my bone structure, and I
offer him bread. He will be
at my bedside until there is
no bedside, no sand or sea.


About the author

Lisa Marie Basile, a Brooklyn-based poet and writer, is the founding editor and publisher of Patasola Press. She reads poetry for Weave Magazine, performs with the Poetry Brothel as Luna Liprari, is an M.F.A. candidate at The New School, and is in love with the sea. You can find her work at elimae, Moon Milk Review, and Pear Noir! Lisa is currently writing a collection based on her experiences in Barcelona, which she visited for the first time in July 2011.

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