F.G.L.

Lorca_(1914)
O, New York poet,

where did you find
your dusted birds
and tree of death?

Christmas is coming
and I’m going to Boston.
I know it isn’t Vienna,
but can I get them there too?

And can I get them
without paying duty?

Or will I just find you:
Alive in
an orange cover
and pebbled photograph.

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