Seville

This is Seville and I built it.
Heaved the statues out of the ground, fired the builder’s arms with blood, lit the architect’s imagination.
Stood back.
Waited.

I invented poetry. Put the words together for you. Words for landscapes, words for heart breaks, words for love.
I sent you flowers and you fell in love with Seville.

I wrote my love song across the city, built great cathedrals for breves, sang the refrain, I listened, I waited, I listened, I waited.
Nothing.
You covered your ears but caught the echo. You waited for your part and then
Nothing. You filled in the blanks with blanks.

Now even the statues look silent.
I built it. I know that I built it.
They push in together, cameras flashing, arms reaching out and touching but never feeling. Don’t you see?

No-one built a statue for a city. No-one built a statue for lust, just the postponed rejection of love. No-one built a statue for money. But now even the statues that I built for you seem silent.
I stand a little back, watching. I stand a little back…listening. Hoping.

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