In Buenos Aires, the men sit stirring
Their thick espressos, rapidly stirring
Small cups of coffee, adding sugar, still
Rapidly stirring their small espressos.
She has been arrested and beaten, she
Tries to remember her poetry, her
Music, her eyes cracked and sharp serrations
Her cheek bones honed as if with a whetstone.
In Buenos Aires, the men sit stirring
Their thick espressos, mindlessly stirring
Small cups of coffee, adding sugar, still
Mindlessly stirring their small espressos.
She has no spirit for any dull rites
Of interrogation, they seem to need
Ceremonies to make her death that much
Less ridiculous, something less to miss.
In Buenos Aires, the men sit stirring
Their thick espressos, endlessly stirring
Small cups of coffee, adding sugar, still
Endlessly stirring their small espressos.