Praise Song for the Marvelous City*
1 For
the magical tires of taxis, conjuring invisible lanes of traffic, swerving this
way & that, swift and
sweet as banana smoke—a call-and-response with astonished tourists, hearts in throats
2 For the holy molecules of the Atlantic, rippling waves of foam into white sands; rising into
rainforested hills; into ethereal tolls of cathedral bells; into fountains of clouds; up up up into orgasms of
summer rain.
3 For the refrain of a carioca’s curves, orbiting Sambódromo like a galaxy of bronze suns; for the hint
of her smile, faint as the sweetness of coconut water; hair, lush as the pulp of caipirinha limes
4 For time, bending on bandstands asway with bossa nova; fruit stands of blood oranges, cashew fruit,
and acerolas; newsstands, a cacophony of headlines in Portuguese, Spanish, and other colonial
languages
5 For posses of capuchin monkeys, marauding refrigerators for mangos; for bullets raining across
favelas like the kisses of violent lovers; for hillsides of black faces, whites of their eyes shining
sharp as teeth
6 For each dirt seam in the green, rainforested robe of Corcovado; for the paths to redemption, rising
through the clouds; for the arms of the Christ, wide enough to welcome all mankind’s
unwashed
7 For the hips of Oxum, emerging from the Mazomba River; summoning samba on pandeiros and
cuicas; coloring the slums with her tongue of tangerine and honey
8 For gangs of hang gliders, painting clouds over Pedra Bonita; for each Rocinha rooftop junkie
hallucinating Christ the Redeemer; for the roar of Maracana, raising the sky for an immaculate, mid-field goal
by Ronaldo.
9 For sandbars; juice bars; sidewalk sports bars—a sea of yellow and green #9 jerseys overflowing
every cobblestone street in Lapa
10 For the last reais of an unsuspecting tourist, pickpocketed by the long, blue arm of the sea; for the
mistress of the blue hour—in the avenue, nude—searching for her black negligee; for
the dream nets of fishermen, dragging the moon through Guanabara Bay like an orange
11 For the 42 arches of Arcos da Lapa; for Portuguese graffiti dancing a capoeira of color; for street
parties of bohemians & thieves, drunk on a cocktail of cachaça, bamboo flutes, and samba de
roda
12 For excesses of flesh—Carnival costumes barely holding breasts; churrascaria waiters carving
avalanches of beef; Tijuca, a wonderland of fruit, enough to feed all future generations in
heaven
13 For the futvoley players; the surfers; the cyclists & the sunbathers; joggers’ holy tendons, hoisting the
sun like bananeiras in the liquid gold of dawn
14 For the blessed hands of the laborers—the bellhops, the barbers; the florists, the butchers; the sex
workers; the police with their unseen arms; all serving, all earning, all hustling with their
shoulders pressed to the holy wheel of everything
15 All is holy, all is aglow, all is marvelous: Cidade Maravilhosa—Rio de Janeiro
* Cidade Maravilhosa: The Marvelous City, nickname for Rio de Janeiro
--M. AYODELE HEATH
sweet as banana smoke—a call-and-response with astonished tourists, hearts in throats
2 For the holy molecules of the Atlantic, rippling waves of foam into white sands; rising into
rainforested hills; into ethereal tolls of cathedral bells; into fountains of clouds; up up up into orgasms of
summer rain.
3 For the refrain of a carioca’s curves, orbiting Sambódromo like a galaxy of bronze suns; for the hint
of her smile, faint as the sweetness of coconut water; hair, lush as the pulp of caipirinha limes
4 For time, bending on bandstands asway with bossa nova; fruit stands of blood oranges, cashew fruit,
and acerolas; newsstands, a cacophony of headlines in Portuguese, Spanish, and other colonial
languages
5 For posses of capuchin monkeys, marauding refrigerators for mangos; for bullets raining across
favelas like the kisses of violent lovers; for hillsides of black faces, whites of their eyes shining
sharp as teeth
6 For each dirt seam in the green, rainforested robe of Corcovado; for the paths to redemption, rising
through the clouds; for the arms of the Christ, wide enough to welcome all mankind’s
unwashed
7 For the hips of Oxum, emerging from the Mazomba River; summoning samba on pandeiros and
cuicas; coloring the slums with her tongue of tangerine and honey
8 For gangs of hang gliders, painting clouds over Pedra Bonita; for each Rocinha rooftop junkie
hallucinating Christ the Redeemer; for the roar of Maracana, raising the sky for an immaculate, mid-field goal
by Ronaldo.
9 For sandbars; juice bars; sidewalk sports bars—a sea of yellow and green #9 jerseys overflowing
every cobblestone street in Lapa
10 For the last reais of an unsuspecting tourist, pickpocketed by the long, blue arm of the sea; for the
mistress of the blue hour—in the avenue, nude—searching for her black negligee; for
the dream nets of fishermen, dragging the moon through Guanabara Bay like an orange
11 For the 42 arches of Arcos da Lapa; for Portuguese graffiti dancing a capoeira of color; for street
parties of bohemians & thieves, drunk on a cocktail of cachaça, bamboo flutes, and samba de
roda
12 For excesses of flesh—Carnival costumes barely holding breasts; churrascaria waiters carving
avalanches of beef; Tijuca, a wonderland of fruit, enough to feed all future generations in
heaven
13 For the futvoley players; the surfers; the cyclists & the sunbathers; joggers’ holy tendons, hoisting the
sun like bananeiras in the liquid gold of dawn
14 For the blessed hands of the laborers—the bellhops, the barbers; the florists, the butchers; the sex
workers; the police with their unseen arms; all serving, all earning, all hustling with their
shoulders pressed to the holy wheel of everything
15 All is holy, all is aglow, all is marvelous: Cidade Maravilhosa—Rio de Janeiro
* Cidade Maravilhosa: The Marvelous City, nickname for Rio de Janeiro
--M. AYODELE HEATH