Visitor
He always came
unannounced
tattering thoughts
vague smile
turning the dead
into fairies
sharpened axe
behind door
ready to severe
head from walking corpse
unless they kept secret
the name of one woman
they both once loved
before the wrath of autumn
brought the inconsolable
sobs of separation
LONG LISTED FOR THE 2023 GRIFFIN POETRY AWARDS
VIOLIN FOR THE ONE-ARM MAN
7
A lot of these things, of course, or one part of the room
are imaginary since man prefers to be always sad and
don’t give me a hard time, I choose to be poor out
of respect (let us not to include all the Sundays);
though now I recuperate or iron old receipts or
I light the gas heater or I stand outside the Observatory
begging for some rain.
When it rains they all vanish and no one can see you
or better, I hold a newspaper so I don’t scare
the shadows,
and I always maintain my correspondence regarding
faraway issues;
it’s simple: you sit at the steps of the bridge in spite
of all dignity and finally it always appears, since
I had the strength not to defend myself, only just
a bit quieter, my God keep it a bit quieter,
and not that all these futile days ended.
I pretended to be indifferent while, on the side of my
eyes I observed the slip that lurks under the carpet,
however how can they see us clearly; us who search
for God
and this phrase is so good I must make a note of it;
and let every opportunist who insists my mother died
go to hell while I, each evening, sit quietly in the garden;
therefore I managed to live half of each day since I
was often all alone and again the victim or I was
chased by the milkman even after the nightmare
although they didn’t care for this which was a fantastic
indulgence like the smell of a drawer that is our most
personal history or like a lamp in an empty room is
the only witness of the deluge and no one will ever
find out why I sit here, behind this door for years,
wrapped with the bed cover, hiding my clumsy foot
that led me out of the world.
Manolis Aligizakis 