That scene in The Leopard when the family goes to mass
and sits up front alongside the altar in high backed wood,
but now this—
that nun who is young for a Cuban nun
in a brown habit like a cigar wrapper sings,
that big band orchestra of Cardinals in red beanies
about to stand up and swing that music behind the pope,
that country, we keep a jail there,
that damp closet, we like the sandwich,
that country that is so close and so far away
and is perhaps shaped a bit like kidneys or livers,
that old scholar who seems beyond grading people
and thinking he is some sort of big time standard,
that space they made for the priests and nuns in wheelchairs,
that sense of hot, of tropical hot, and antique standing fans.
