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This poem is inspired by the character of Adela in Federico Garcia Lorca's great play 'The House Of Bernarda Alba'.

I directed it back in 2008. Its always been one of my favourite plays...


Me_cafe_rougeby Jake Murray07 May 2015


Her feet scatter across the
tiled floor; the kiln of the sun bakes 
the tired day; shafts of light strike the 
stifled rooms from the windows;
latticed shapes sigh across stone.

Her hair, dark, falls across
her face; her eyes, dark, search
for the compliant moon.
Her skin waits by the shutters,
need meandering rivers
of sweat down her neck as
she stands, panting,
for her lover.

In the silence, his eyes shine in
the wine-thick blackness;
among the bushes, another
darkness waits; a glint of metal,
a noose in the chamber, but 
for these moments Adela 
is alive with thunder,
lightning ablaze
in the sun.