Blind to Lotuses

You are a black bull, an eclipse.

Sometimes when I see you
fire takes over me -
my least favorite element
and surely your most.

I don't like when in others
you see a muleta*
that needs to be shreded -
the redness is actually in you,
not in them.

In those moments
I want to forcefully shove olive branches
into your mouth.

I am actually water but what for?
Water can't extinguish the fire
it can't reach.

Ah, if only you would let go
of your destructive nature
from your navel lotuses would spring.

* a red cloth used by matadors