The Bachata Singer
written by: Elaine Nadal
Five planets are visible tonight.
I am still– a loose thread,
a tuneless shell.
He sings with a broken wing
–con sentimiento.
The stage is his sky.
His song, blood red like a ruby star,
intoxicates the room, dimly lit
with wanderers like me–
disenchanted souls
looking for wine.
The guitar cries
crimson rays,
turning sorrow into suspiro.
It tastes like tomorrow.
I awaken:
“Let me touch you.
Bachatéame, Papí.”
Latest posts by Elaine Nadal (see all)
- Harvest - September 18, 2023
- The Bachata Singer - June 6, 2023
- Interview Q&A With Elaine Nadal - September 20, 2022