Six poems inspired by Garcia Lorca’s play YERMA in “In Focus”

YERMA's DETERIORATION
My son
I guess
I don't have
a mother's hands
myself

Killed
many nights
I go down to feed
the oxen
which I never
did before because
no woman does it
I have

Killed
When I pass 
through the darkness
of the shed
my footsteps
sound to me
like the footsteps
of a man

I myself
have killed
my son 
animals
lick them, don't they?
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