Federico García Lorca Poem by Sean Joyce

How fast do you dig
when the sweet fat moon is climbing high
and the air is whispers in the trees
How fast do you dig
when you dig your own grave
how fast

How slow do you dig
when the stars are out and the men with the guns
stretch out on the grass. When they roll cigarettes
and they wait for you
how slow do you dig
how slow

When the young one offers
to roll you a smoke
how slow do you dig
how long is the night
how wide is the chasm
how deep is the grave
of a poet