Killing A Bull by Toshi Casey скачать в хорошем качестве

Killing A Bull by Toshi Casey

Toshi Casey's poem "Killing A Bull" as read by the poet herself. "I repeat women shouldn’t fight bulls because a bullfighter is and always should be a man.”— Paco Camino, March 26, 1972, Eugene Register Guard. Curiosity and feminism drove me to watch a matador over the internet on a live-feed, for I do not live where matadors stalk the vigorous streets, crowded with blue-egg buildings, painted against the smell of roasted olives or Tuscany bread. I do not live where men march to an arena to kill bulls, or where a woman like me leans over her railings, throws a carnation at the feet of a man, and falls in love, but I wonder how I might kill a beast— what is the gore infested consequence of my ritual, my spectacle? If I startle, hook, pierce, flourish paces till the last snort raises dirt, lean in and drive out the heart of the thing, I might be able to tell Camino that he is wrong and vindicate my gender, except I don't want to fight a bull inside of a bullring with nine other women at my side. Personal responsibly roped out between the unit, allowing us enough room to dance. I’d rather wait until he loved me enough to close his eyes, so we’d have to be on speaking terms. He could dream his beastly, primitive dreams of fucking cows, scraping his rump against tree bark, goring his horns into rival bull hide. Once at peace, I’ll pull my long blade against his rough throat, drink my fill in his round bull’s eye, and sick myself on his thick blood. So, perhaps, Camino is right. Perhaps women should not fight bulls. I’d murder without grace or twirled fringe amid the throng. For me death would be personal: a frothing tongue and the kind of suffering that takes me down with it and divvies us both up for the hungry.