Long-listed for the 2023 Griffin Poetry Awards
Faces furrowed by time and sickness
faces cracked by hunger and the work related accidents
faces swollen, dirty, hairy,
faces stretched by the pliers of an unnatural smile
big faces like mothers’ breasts
tough faces like anvils.
A woman uncovers her breast to feed a yellow baby
the wind mixes the clouds
clouds mix with the flags
death, wearing a general’s mask, inspects the world
women cry as they wash their black cloths
people cry in the front steps of houses, at the corners,
in the fields
they cry in the trenches, hospitals, outside
the unemployment offices
tears, tears
our eyes will survive beyond our death
in order to cry
it blows
The wind mixes the voices, years, electric cables,
the teeth of the tobacco factory worker with the bayonets
it can’t tell apart the minister from the black dog
it mixes the breast of the nursing woman with
the dome of the neighborhood church
it blows
The window panes of the big cities are foggy, dirtied
by our bad breaths
as we bury our dead with their mouths opened
they’re hungry
Manolis Aligizakis 