The Portuguese poet José Tolentino Mendonça is a handsome man in his fifties with a shaved head and meticulously trimmed beard. In one photograph he’s wearing an ultramarine blue polo shirt; in another, a lovely beige cashmere sweater that matches his tan. His poems depict emotional pain in cryptic language. In ‘The Last Day of Summer,’ unable to ‘choose attention or choose forgetfulness’, he recalls ‘your impatient and inconceivable eyes/ here with me now/ as I dance alone/ in the empty city’.
But then Mendonça has no choice but to dance alone. He is a cardinal of the Catholic Church – and just possibly the next pope.
Pope Francis has been in office for ten years and he’s spending more and more time in hospital. Last week he was admitted to the Gemelli for emergency abdominal surgery, at which point leaders of the Church’s factions geared up for an imminent conclave to elect a successor.
Comments
Join the debate for just $5 for 3 months
Be part of the conversation with other Spectator readers by getting your first three months for $5.
UNLOCK ACCESS Just $5 for 3 monthsAlready a subscriber? Log in