The baroque bronze knockers
strike the door
and frighten the ghosts.
Noble lineage in heraldic handiwork
wrapped in parchment
with satin ribbon.
The shutters ajar
disclose
Hispanic eyes
void as tombs.
The monastery cloister emits
matutinal odours
of black coffee.
The wagtail dances
on spindly legs
on the fuming muzzle of the cannon
crouching akimbo
spouting fury.
Orange blossoms
diffuse the perfume
of unfulfilled betrothals.
out of secret gardens.
Monsignors
breathing dank death
with mitres askew
snooze
in choir stalls.
Villagers with mules, merchandise
and great expectations
wait at the city gate.
Bread and wine on the altar.
Bloodthirsty pirates approach
gulping down
maidens destined for the Barbary coast.
The neighing horse
sweating and foaming, sparks flying
from flint and limestone.
Who is this rider
in full flight
wrapped in sweeping mantle?
From far off times
the rider has reached us
thighs burnt galloping …
he bore us a message
as full of truth
as shining
gem encrusted sword.