THE GATE
(Excerpt 13)
The other passes with a sack on his back; all his
belongings, a pair of socks, an undershirt an
undergarment — he wears his shirt — two slices
of bread, no razor, his beard has grown long, no
notebook, he has paid off his debts, doesn’t need
to borrow anything, he had seen a naked woman
in the twilight, hadn’t seen her clearly, he shuts
his eyes, imagines her the way he likes, short legs,
long legs,
big breast, small tight, you can’t control the body;
the other’s body or yours, it slides on the light,
escapes its shadow,
whole, cut in pieces, each piece, water well
in water well
hill upon hill, tree next to tree over the other tree
circle on circle, secure circles, you run around them
you see one piece, you miss the other,
Oh mother of mine, he yelled, you gave me a circular
mouth,
circular hand too, to see, to lick, to touch the whole
circle.
Manolis Aligizakis 