Eighth Canto
Voice of unrelenting clock
and cry of the wind nothing
but an orchestra of the undefeated
as I turn to the west glimpsing
farewells of sailors long gone
sunk in waters of enmity
when the glide of the partridge
interrupts the path of the hottest
shot from the well-designed
double barrel insignia of Death
emblem of resurrection
on its polished handle what
is one to say when the industrious
world consumes divine
energy to spit out divine
instruments for slaughter? Heart of
the sparrow struggles in glory of an evening
mirage when one more cannon like
an unfortunate soldier snaps off a
blast through the soft plumage of the bird
across the great need
for wanton killing as the
last star fades seen through the kitchen
windowpane I uncork the wine bottle
fill two glasses for our meal
of sweet potatoes and roasted chicken
breast and the absurd intention
of a host changing attire to the new
devouring clown donating
extracts and using means few can
decline or afford as the blown feathers of
the limp partridge begs the same
question and high trembling poplars answer:
we can do better
Manolis Aligizakis 