After “Las Formas Puras,” After Lorca

In memory of Anthony Kerrigan The pure shapes of things shake and are fall ing under the cry of bajo el cri cri and chirping of the six margaritas daisies that I loved but now know deflower when the men bent upon murdering me bend down in cabinets and on cliffs and in cafes where some flamenco guitarist breaks his fingers on the grave accents   /   /   /     breaks his fingers on the acute \ \ hunting now even in the graves