The Bullfighter of Tierra del Fuego

The art of killing the bull
is a well practiced devotion.

Carlos, he will think, thoughts
desperate, wild

Carlos 'Te quiero

sacrifice the strength
of the beast, swallow
the blood, watch it hit
the air blue in sputtering
shouts, sudden


the animal dies underneath
your hands,

the sound the
bull makes in death

swallow the hot placid air
of Tierra del Fuego.

when the Bullfighter speaks
it will be in riddles, and prayer,
saying; Carlos

there is no one left to hear.

Carlos, a whisper

just a cold sound on the night air. The streets will be dark when the Bullfighter approaches the stone house. His hand will move the old wooden door. His palm will feel the skin of the wood. The wood is old, Nothofagus betuloides, the door is bowed with age.

Carlos will wipe the sweat from the Matador's creased brow. He will peel the heavy cloths away slowly.

Mithras was not the first to kill the bull, though he is the first remembered for it.

The Roman's turn men into gods;
their history is full of hope
and sad idolatry

The Sanskrit Mitra is in the Rig Veda;
the orphan boys are suckling at the
teat of a wild wolf,

Rome is full of howls
in the night, and the
soldiers slaughter
the bull out of

each in turn washes
their hands in the pool
of blood – it is tradition.

When the Bullfighter kisses Carlos he can taste the hot day on his tongue. He can smell the fear that has gathered at the back of Carlos' throat all day as he waited for the Bullfighter to return.

Carlos will lay the Bullfighter down on the pallet in the far corner of the room. The firelight will lick light onto them; their eyes will be dark pools in the gloom. Carlos will kiss each eyelid, first one, slowly, and then the other.

The Bullfighter will quiver underneath such a touch.

Carlos is careful to make no noise when he brings his mouth over the Bullfighter's penis. He has waited all day for the Bullfighter's ecstasy.

Earlier when the sun splashed through the shutter's Carlos had imagined how he would lay the Bullfighter down, kiss the death of the day away.

The Bullfighter is all knots and bent angles, his hands are fists inside the tangled mess of Carlos' hair. He at once becomes sound. Flesh dissolves into the marrow of his bones. He sinks inward into himself. Hand's desperate for Carlos' jawline. The hard center of his navel.

Carlos keeps the Bullfighter in his mouth.

'Te quiero, it will be a desperate plea,

a sacrifice.

the art of sacrificing the bull,

no women are present.