Saturday, 2 August 2008

A Poem

A Poem

Lines to Cordoba

Cordoba, your river is full of djinn
that once roamed your olive groves:
they now go up and down
these meagre waves
unable to leave

At dusk,
they stand at your gates like lamenting lovers,
begging that naked man
in the parched courtyard of La Mezquita
"guard that from which we are forever banished"

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