The Rider's Song

after Lorca

I

Córdoba. Apart
              and apart.

Powder-dark horse; charged moon;
unpitted olives loose-panniered and khaki.
A road I thought was familiar spells itself out
strangely, uninflected with memory,
                                                        or Córdoba.


Through dust and across dust
(powder horse; flame moon)
there's a death
                       aware and waiting
in the wings and the spires
                                            of Córdoba.

Ah so long road!
Ah powder-fine horse, stoic and disintegrating!
Ah patient death, that
...