Carne vale

Golden shoes

and lace

on a bony knee

of aged Sundays

and pearl

around necks of

sagging flesh

waiting

in excitement

for the procession

of shared solitude

Behind the ardent rows

the beauties

pass

no need yet

for this wait

that brings out but

saints

Their time is to night

the fiesta of the flesh

forgotten the

Carne vale

of their mothers in the street

A carnival in Valencia... Brides walking to the sea