Shekhar Aiyar
CRISTO BLANCO, CUZCO—PERU
Caught in the brilliance of the noon
Pinpricks of metal and of glass
Flash silently between the hills
That saw the ages burn and pass.
I sit by Quenqo’s ruined stone
Within a government planted shade
Of Eucalyptus, staring down
Into the square where Spaniards flayed
The blood-familiar Inca hordes,
Upon the altar where they broke
And vanished from a newborn world.
I shift my backpack, light a smoke,
Retrace the grassy verge to where
Great bells extol the long-run race
And red domesticated roofs
Dwell in the statue's white embrace.
PLATO AND SOCRATES
My loves are scattered here and there
Refracted in the mirror’s eyes
And radiated to the skies
They elevate past mortal ties
To permeate the realm of air
My loves on dialogues are borne
And white against the complex gray
Of one more hemlock-scented day
They shoot from sky to sky and may
Converge at last to icy form
But while the worlds beneath them turn
An image of my master’s face,
Composed, indifferent to disgrace,
Repudiates the wind's embrace
And keeps them several as they burn.
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