At the end of the banquet hall
polished reeds hold black wings
slicing across thermals wheeling arcs drawn
by condors high above the Andes
holding the angustia of the señoroa
trapped in her funereal wrappings
catching the wind billowing upward outward
until she sails alongside their shining wings
buoyed by updrafts the flute’s wailing
filling her mantilla until she drifts apart
to write her agony across the sky.