Divan del Tamarit

“Toda la tarde la agua se siente…”
Arabesques, Rocío Màrquez and Christian Boissel

& the dove & the piano chord
repeat this over over over and over

& the dove and the quiet of the afternoon
with our many passes at the moon
I wave my white scarf
I wave my white face
I let pass the moon of the morning
I let pass the moon of the sea
but it is when the night bends itself double
under a bank of stars that I will not let the moon go
I will not let the moon go I will not let the moon
down. I will not allow the moon to run away

& the dove and the old tree gather where the
piano is making moonlight out of a garden

All afternoon the water sat down
the doorway
the child
the child    the utter silence

A muezzin calls at the same moment
as the most intricate piano trill

much wind
a dead poet
wind

do not leave your face
vacant on the counter
or the moon will pick it up

take your dress down to your shoulders
here so the wind can touch you there

what a thing
what sleep he has
the dead poet
the wind
the teeth of the wind

and then a cry from out of the throat

I have much fear
I have the required bravado
I have other things as well

Oak branch that holds up
the tongue of the bell
made of the wood of the pomegranate

Granada in the moonlight
I can hear only the tongue of the bell
body of longing, the dove crosses the moon
on her way elsewhere, leaving us
with empty throats
leaving us with ourselves alone
with the dove and the piano chord
with the wind

Inspired by attending a recital of the poetry of Federico García Lorca sung (Màrquez), to piano (Boissel), during the International Sacred Music Festival, Fez, Morocco, June 2012