The return of San Raphael

The sun is pushing rivers through the clouds
the valley is beating with sheets of flowers

fingers push air
the upheld hand holds
a rose, one by one
the flakes fall into the fountain
until the water bleeds red
and the statue surrenders his stillness
to the chorus of yellow leaves dancing on the yellow wind

arms and legs untie fractures of sky, stars
go shooting over hills heavy with stars

San Raphael steps down from his mount

In the square virgins drink the blood of black soldiers
the blood of burnt synagogues and empty parliaments
the blood of wet skin and blue wombs, children
bowl strawberries into the gutter, stopping as the saint's hands
move over the masses, mystifying

the swallow climbs to her peak
a purple sunset spills into the window
the streets are quiet, a cat purrs
a shadow closes the wounds of the wounded

Saturday morning

Preciosa hangs her baby on the wind, the father, look:
smoke is rising from the mezquita, the nuns
walk by the children's cemetery, bless the little coffins, listen:

Archangels are breathing autumn over the balcony, treacle
stars tumble from the tumbler of gin to the tablecloth
that is the night's mirror: day, pushing through air like the sixty nine

tattoed to her side, beauty scatters over sweet summers
flagged by maple and the green man under the olive grove
that the wolves kiss, after biting the parchment moon to pieces, look:

Preciosa's smile lifts the sunrise over Spain

Twilight by the olive trees

Twilight by the olive trees, two hands
touch in the hush of whispers, leaves brush fingers,
arms find arms, somewhere a river crashes

into another river, cold lips close
the flower heads, ballerinas are sinking
in oceans of mercury, a sigh sweeps from an avalanche

wind slits the skin of the peach coloured sky
the promise of thunder troubles the rainbows
and on the branches the cicadas begin to sing

of snow clothed mountains of petals and lightning
of kisses burning in the sun's amber mouth
of tambourines made from eyelashes and thorn
of poems blossoming on the side of volcanoes

come into the shade so I can batter your heart with blueberries
come into the shade so I can milk the moonlight from your skin
come into the shade so I can wash your tears with velvet rain

Plaza de Capuchinas

Petal of rice, pearl of wheat
can you hear what the wind whistles
in green

to the old man climbing the orange tree
high above the water washed street
shining in bright light, the sky is open

all colour will come to collapse in the arms of the saints
kissed by California, the day will disappear on the tongues
of the angels

and a thousand little feet will swarm in delicious blue and white
mellifluous, moving from fountain to fountain, mirroring the cloud's melody
counting the arrows left by the archers or

the leaves ripped by Capricorn heels, precious
order has dissolved here, the moon trembles
crystals drip from the virgin's thigh

and in the morning
dawn is caught in the silver nets of fishing boats
and is dragged gently to the shore  

     Charlie Baylis 2015