I have never been gored.
To my critics, and there are many,
it proves I am not doing it right.
For ten years I have kept to traditions,
a tight-fitting traje de luces,
my hair tied back in a pigtail.
Who could tell I am a woman?
But that is not good enough.
The crowd taunts,
says I never learned to kill well,
my breasts impeding the thrust of the sword.
Patrons mock, say I am not a Matador de Toro.
Like sour milk from their mouths
they spit, Mujeres Toreras,
Fighters boycott, refusing to appear with me.
They tell me I should fulfill my natural destiny,
Machismo keeps men from acting like men.
But I will no longer accept second-rate rings
or fight dud bulls.
Father insists I return
to my former profession,
la peluquera, a hairdresser.
Mother insists I die
in bed surrounded by grandchildren.
I promise them this fight is my last.
From Padre Morales I seek absolution.
From Senora de los Dolores,
I beg a sudden death,
for the bull to pierce
and empty this hollow heart.
Today I will do it right.
donnarkevic: Weston, WV. MFA National University. Recent poetry has
appeared in Convergence Review, Earth Speak, and Off the Coast.
Recent short story publications include Colere and the anthology,
Seeking the Swan. In 2005, Main Street Rag published Laundry, a
poetry chapbook. Also in 2005, The Interview, a play, won 2nd place
in the Playwright's Circle competition.