FUTILE PREPARATION
As the tempest galloped from the suburbs to the city
clatter of horse-hooves was heard on the cobblestones.
The conspirators
opened their nostrils wide for a great welcome,
for resistance, for a continuous battle. One of them
held a knife, seeking in all this clatter to share the bread,
in equal parts, in true justice. The tempest didn’t come;
only some big raindrops fell on the dusty sidewalk.
Nothing else.
They experienced the humiliation of a futile preparation
and at the end they saw
that they didn’t have anything to share or say
and the man with the knife didn’t exist.
Manolis 