Titos Patrikios, Selected Poems


Thick worms of the army washrooms

gigantic rats from the septic tanks

they search the sacks for bread all night long

they step over faces,

the eaten face of a cat.

The day roosts on the mountain like a raven

the night falls when the soldiers masturbate

the night patrols and the tail movements.

Under the moonlight

two were going at each other

behind the washrooms.

One of them had a wife and children

and one called Skarvellas put his rotten face

in my sleep to see whether I was singing.


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