Blood on his torn glossy pants. But the bull is down. Brave, holding up the bull's ear, he walks nearly falling. The bright splash of people fumble in their cheering. He makes a blunt move forward, out of the oval of shade. But the bull gets up and comes from behind. "Senor, the blood is dripping through the stretcher." These simple facts close an afternoon. They clear his pants and face of blood. This part of his life is as blunt as the front of a strange twilight. But it is still today and he is stretched out on an evening table. His gold-and-blue suit no longer fits. This part of his glory does not fit him well. "And part of the lower stomach has been ripped away." The doctor blew velvet smoke at the wife. She sits waiting and waiting as for a bell. "Internal bleeding in these cases is common. The soft areas are in danger." On the X ray, we see a slight bone chip. For her, the goring hurts way off somewhere unknown. But her husband is resting, and the bull, he is brave but dead. Used with the permission of Copper Canyon Press, P.O. Box 271, Port Townsend, WA 98368-0271, www.cc.press.org |