Note: This is the fiifth in a series of six sequential poems by Jack Callan of Norfolk, written upon viewing a television feature highlighting a Spanish woman's dream of becoming a matador, and who has become successful in the Spanish bullring. Over the next five days, the remaining poems will appear in sequence.
Who would paint my death,
paint my stance before the horns,
maybe blue with kind eyes. Maybe
I would be naked
till I stabbed down so hard
your back severed, and I had won.
Only then would I look at you
you, maybe the god
that I worship
the god I control
piercing your spine
till I am god
then I paint your soul.
(c)Jack Callan 2010
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