Tumbling
Papers, rusted pieces of metal, rusted slogans, poems.
A vacant stool on the empty table, in the empty house.
You are familiar with them, you pretend you don’t know,
a bit more and you’d get fooled, you would fool,
you could praise someone; you could be praised (now without
a smile) it was your duty, you were saying, what duty? You
hide the hole with your body, while the around flags
get tattered in large, hollow single-coloured leaves.
Manolis Aligizakis 