ABSENCE
He held the shadow of his hands in his hands.
It was a calm night, others couldn’t see that he was holding
his shadow.
He empowered the night. He was careful. He paid more
attention to others than to himself.
The sea still searched for his eyes. He was absent.
A little girl was buttoning her coat slowly;
he was looking elsewhere as he enjoyed the great
distance.
Perhaps a skylight was opened up high in the starlight which
was flooding the olive tree grove and the burnt up houses.
He was listening to the butterfly that returned into the glass
of the All Souls Saturday
and to the fisherman’s daughter who was grinding the quietness
of the coffee.
Manolis Aligizakis 