Huacas | Timothy A Robbins

We’re walking through Madrid’s
Museo de America. “You’ve got
to see this.” Dad leads me to a
dimly lit case protruding from the
wall. A Peruvian whistling vessel.
A sturdy Chimu male takes his
Chimu buddy from the rear. The
bottom is on all fours.The top
wears nothing but a tuque, a beanie,
a toboggan, a knit cap (depending
on where you grew up).The arc
of the top’s back repeats the
vessel’s curved handle. The spout
is so phallic, it makes me want
to whistle.

As a boy, I was overwhelmed by
El Greco. This was before I
understood why the Laocoön’s
snakes and ghostly male nakedness
made me look over my shoulder.
My dad teased me about those
“pointy-headed Popes.” Teased
and promised I’d see them some
day. Now

he’s 74 and I’m 51. The sky over
Toledo crackles as promised.
The saints yearn skyward with
their eyes. I focus on this
camaraderie preserved in terra cotta,
safe in dirt for centuries,saved
from conquistadors and missionaries,
resurrected by archeologists, flown
over strange waters, gently unpacked
by curators, humidified under glass.

Timothy Robbins teaches ESL. He has a B.A. in French and an M.A. in Applied Linguistics. He has been a regular contributor to Hanging Loose since 1978. His poems have appeared in Three New Poets, Slant, Main Street Rag, Adelaide Literary Magazine, Off The Coast and others. His collection Denny’s Arbor Vitae was published in 2017. He lives with his husband of twenty years in Kenosha, Wisconsin, birthplace of Orson Welles. His collection of poems “Carrying Bodies” is to be published in October 2018 by Main Street Rag Press.