Long Listed for the 2023 Griffin Poetry Awards
Ambush
The sun went down behind the army barracks,
beggars searched for some water however all the water
pitchers in Cana were inverted; women cried as they left
in the yellow dusk, I, haunted, shared my wine with
the robbers and pseudo-martyrs on the hill while
the cross was already biting the edge of my coat.
Who could I love? To whom should I confess? Only
God can say He heard me complaining, I drank all
the bog they threw at me, my dreams became
the paths onto which triumphant carts rode; I plucked
my wings and gave them to the old, all-alone
woman who was buried with the sparrow under
the neighbour’s tree, in an old pencil case full of ash;
remember me, when the time comes.
Prisoners’ handiworks were drying by the fireplace.
It was autumn, the fields were deserted, and I heard the steps
of informers who stole the hay. Then I noticed the great
gallows where I was to climb, unknown whether I was
to be crowned king or to roll down to the basket
of the beheaded.
Manolis Aligizakis 