A Town Called Gesuiti
the
mountains rise above the sea
the Vespas
speed
to
saint-day festivals
carrying
convent girls
chickens and soccer balls
fly through the air
the boys
conspire
they
torture a chicken
soccer ball
over crossbar
son of a
rich man
clenches
his hands
spits at
the son of the poorest
hits at the
mud on his shorts
little
brother stands cursing
the team
sun sand
and bloody
Milan
the mule
herder's son
runs with
his cousin
son of a
carpenter
into a
basin
of leeches
and snakes
the mule
herder is dead
his son walked past the cemetery
got thrown to the ground by a spirit
an exorcism was conducted
the rich
man whistles
walks to
the Cantina
where men
make good with the day
upright and
serious
in Jesuit
form
they share
the wine
in her
husband's house
a pot
pounds off her swollen belly
he flees
the room
she stays
to inhabit cleanse warm mother
nurture the
burden of birth
a twelve-year-old boy
holds shears to the soldiers' heads
walks home from the base
bearing tithes for the family
The spirit
is gone
banished
with oil
dark rooms,
and‑shhhhh
heretic
curses‑
shhhhh!
The Jesuits lived here.
Quiet now.
The Jesuits will hear.
Published
on Writing Beyond History. An Anthology of
Prose and Poetry, Montreal, Cusmano, 2006