SHIBBOLETH

Along with my stone
like a great tear fell
in back of the shutters,

they hauled me
into the dust of a market,
that place
where a flag was unrolled
to which I never had sworn.

Flutes,
double-flutes of the night:
remember the dark
and twin redness,
Madrid and Vienna.

Memory,
set up your flag at half-mast.
At half-mast
today and forever.

Heart:
let us see you here too,
here in the dust of this market.
Thunder your shibboleth here
into your alien homeland:
February. No pasaran

Unicorn:
you know of the stones
you know of the water,
come,
let me lead you away
toward the voices
of Estremadura.