“Porque duermes solo, Pastor?
En mi colcha de lana
dormirias mejor.” –from “Yerma,”
Frederico Garcia Lorca
he knocked on my attic door I gave him lemonade and freshly baked muffin then we lay across the bed I didn't come here to make love he said but I know I said and we kissed into deep roses and held November night laden with muffins he slipped into streetlight I finished Yerma by Lorca and blew out the candle but I could not sleep for a long time