Erotic Poems After Death
IV
I pass by flooded by the light
in the routine of the clouds
and suddenly I’m nailed in the soil;
a myopic ant gets close to me
leaves its burrow
its crumbles
climbs up from my nail
I’m in danger again
I’m again ready for death
with my belly, the arms…
I’m trapped
the ant wins
it carries me, bitter, dried up matter
while the cicada screams
untaught in all the passion.
Yes, the cicada
makes tangible of the day again
short but of such immenseness
and contracted.
Day of the cypress and of the creaking door
my day
first thus simple
last thus simple.
Manolis 