Catherine Wheel

Doña Catalina
had a single gold hair
among her shadowy
tresses.

(For whom am I waiting,
dear God,
for whom am I waiting?)

Doña Catalina
walks slowly
scattering little green stars
in the night.

(Not here
& not there
but here.)

Doña Catalina:
a grenade of light
dies & is born
on her forehead.

Chsssssssssssss!

Federico García Lorca