Manaus

On market ice a pirarucu lies,

Six feet long, two hundred pounds,

Spawned in the seas of Gondwanaland,

A weird giant,magnificent and hideous.


The black waters of the Rio Negro

And the yellow Solimões

Meet but do not merge,

Flowing side by side,distinct,

Joined in mystery.


Pâté de foie gras from France

And biscuits shipped in from Boston.

Waldemar Scholz, strolling in his gardens

With his pet lion,

Sends his laundry to Paris

To ensure a proper crease in the equatorial air.

Meanwhile his slaves die inelegantly

As the rubber bleeds its white lines

Through the heart.


In the dolphin-breath morning haze

A little boat pilots out into muddy bayou;

Silence so thick you can roll it like tobacco between your fingers;

Madness moves in the water.


From the orchestra of the Teatro Amazonas

Gaze masks of Western avatars:

Beethoven, Mozart, Wagner, Verdi.

Gilt and velvet,

And the chill of ghosts.

Outside,in the square,

A snake writhes across the sidewalk