Long Listed for the 2023 Griffin Poetry Awards
And suddenly the last firings of the surrendered
city
as the wind brought footsteps and rifle shootings
and out of tune songs
many soldiers were wearing civilian cloths and
ran over the walls
houses resembled dead faces in the moonlight frost
unburied corpses on the roads, left to the dogs
and God
and the shooters, stood by the corners hugging
their rifles like the body of a woman who
had betrayed them.
Then, again the same road, among the dead horses
and the broken rifles
women were sitting by the entrance of each burnt up
village and cried
moistening a little flour in their palm to feed
the babies.
Manolis Aligizakis 