
Long Listed for the 2023 Griffin Poetry Awards
Wandering Jew
I assure you, my friend, as you don’t believe me,
it’s you the unknown soldier who died in the mud
and the old whore who raised her skirt
for a yogurt,
revealing the whole tumbled Paradise
and Jesus,
and Lenin
you,
the informer who threw a coin in the tin
of the beggar
you the martyr who died although the ghost of
your vanity smiled ironically over you and your
innumerable transformations through time.
And always that strange sense that urged you
to achieve the greatest acts or die.
And you bowed your head in the night
and you cried.
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