Andaluza
The lashed silk wraps you in raw gold:
Your shoulders flexed, your subtle hips
Swaying to rhythms that were old
When first Columbus begged for ships.
Old as the mountains: flowing forth
From dark to bright as your arms flow
Upward like swallows darting north,
Downward like their swerved wings that know
When on the instant to wheel south.
Against the purring castanets
Is set the secret of your mouth,
A crafty scarlet that forgets.
Your gypsy heels beat fierce tattoo:
An arabesque of sudden pain.
Vehement, glowing, who are you?
What is the meaning of this Spain?
Your skirt flares tense with intricate turning
And gay tormented sequins clink.
You give us only time for learning
To feel, to suffer…not to think.