The Well

in a Mexican convent

Leaning on

the parapet stone

Listening down

the long, dark

sheath through which the standing

shaft of water

sends its echoings up

Catching, as it stirs

the steady seethings

that mount and mingle

with surrounding sounds

from the neighbouring

barrack-yard: soldiery

– heirs, no doubt

of the gunnery that gashed

these walls of tattered

frescoes, the bullet-

holes now socketed

deeper by sunlight

and the bright gaps

giving on to the square

and there revealing

strollers in khaki

with their girls Aware

of a well-like

cool throughout

the entire, clear

sunlit ruin,

of the brilliant cupids

above the cistern

that hold up

a baldachin of stone

which is not there

Hearing the tide

of insurrection

subside through time

under the still-

painted slogans

Hemos servido

lealmente

la revolución