THE GATE
Excerpt XXXIII
The old women put their spindles on the stones;
two first aid men put their stretcher down; the injured
man is too heavy; through his half unbuttoned orange
colour shirt his belly shines in the moonlight;
the last glow of the twilight shivers on the windowpanes
behind the rooms
three soldiers and the made-up woman under the lamppost;
he kicks an empty matchbox that travels in an angle
a boy listens to the harmonica in his pocket — first
suspicion:
death exists, for this perhaps they build the gate.
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Manolis Aligizakis 