3.Avatar Review
     A Review of Poetry, Prose, and Art - Summer 2001

In Lorca's Granada

Poems by Arthur Durkee

In Lorca's Granada,
ghosts of war are walking,
horses pausing to drink
at the fountains.

There is a moon-
orange in the hand
of night's goddess, she
who keeps us from wolves.

In Lorca's Granada,
knives are homeless.
A bower to sheathe in,
vine leaves for handkerchiefs.

Pale soldiers rattle sabers,
the memory of dust
chokes highways
where sable horses died.

In Lorca's Granada,
gypsy girls are dancing.
Scarves and necklaces,
rhythms of war or love.

The hills are feeding
the balconies of Granada,
red with sunset and moonrise,
rinds of desiccated apples.

In Lorca's Granada,
there are no knives.
Pale horses lip at day-lilies,
red as the moon's orange arterial blood.

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