a poem about the spanish sun, and about love

the sun will drag its burning face of rotten milk
across the mountain and emerge
scowling, winking
at its own glare

for a long moment

it will be behind the bushes
it will set them alive
ablaze
and it will burn them to cinders
leave a cracking corpse
its thin arms outstretched to the water
seeking atonement
praying for rain

and the ships will burn on the horizon
lighting up the tracks left
seeking atonement

I will dance by the light of the burning bridges

the sun, I always thought,
would take you away from me
burning down the velvet and moisture of the night sea
crumbling Perelin

the relentless sun
always it has seemed kindred to what is harsh in him

the sun, sometimes
burnt my face into the dust and yes i did
walk by the light of burning bridges
to the shore