Saturday, October 6, 2012

For Toño Cisneros, a poem, Indran Amirthanayagam

                For Toño Cisneros

Who is Cisneros, he asks?
I don’t know. A poet
wont to drink and
a good laugh. He knew

Fitzrovia in the 60s,
spoke English
like a blue blood,
and had English

skepticism, eye
of the toad crouched
under a stone watching
the giant lizard come

tramping through
the bog. The stone
 has been turned
over,  frog dried

and pulled apart
by the forensic
artists; the work
will now be read

by others less gifted
in declamation, but
let us be grateful
that Toño never

to the academies,
He lived in Miraflores
and wrote, he said,

for two hundred
of his neighbors,
 who walk
in Parque Kennedy,

on Malecon Cisneros.

            Indran Amirthanayagam, October 6, 2012

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