LONG LISTED FOR THE GRIFFIN POETRY AWARDS 2023

2023 Longlist Announcement

Goodnight

      Finally, I always dared the temptation of not being

surprised; I read useless geography books in the attic

or for a small reward I helped the local notary

turn to his other side and other times I’d whistle

lethally or I’d sit on a chair for so long that you could

say a crime was, finally, solved

      and if I hadn’t lived stupidly I would had been just

three years old with unpaid milk, which sounded

normal under today’s difficult circumstances;

in fact a lamp is more compassionate than

the whole sky and a ghost more accessible than

the old cricket or a goodnight more historic than

most of historic documents and I don’t give

a damn if others live better.

      Goodnight.

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LUMBERJACK

A dog barked at a distance,

a door creaked on its hinges,

the moon pretended it didn’t notice anything.

The lumberjack killed his dog with his axe

painted his cheeks with the blood and

looked at his reflection in the dark river.

That was the dog that barked.

This was what the moon meant.

Then the axe, like a golden bird, was raised in the air.

A laughter was heard in the forest.

I did it on time, the lumberjack said. He didn’t take

my friend, my dog from me; the lumberjack started

             barking.

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