by Barbara Varanka

Lisboa, Lisboa

..............has arms that reach for you.
.................What is left of its lemon-stand
.............................girl? Deep like a spoon you dig
....................................................for the city’s last breath.

Like Caravaggio’s Judith,
........................you are the bright gash and the sword,
.............................................................the wine and fig
.....................................................................................divided.

........................Dark bride of the desperate
....................................rasp, you are the fat dripped
................................................from a wrung accordion, a street
........................................................................song drunk and stumbling,
..................................................................................a hundred ribcages humming,

.................................................................................................a belly full of
.................................................................................................sofrimento

(To Amalia Rodrigues and her Portuguese guitar)