Disturbance
Soldiers with long, dirty legs, mixed with the blankets,
their breaths full of stagnant air when the cleft moon
appears, and gunshots are heard from down towards
the slaughterhouses, “Thanassis, Thanassis” women
call from behind the window shutters. No one turns
to look at lost names, lost consciousness; dogs roll
pitchers down the asphalt; steel drums roll down from
the hillsides; “Thanassis, Thanassis” while a bunch of
leaflets pop out of the blind man’s hat as he tries to protect
the violin in his coat.
Manolis Aligizakis 