Long-Listed for the 2023 Griffin Poetry Awards

2023 Longlist Announcement

May the Lord rest the soul
of your servants
hallelujah
it blows
An old man is half asleep
the stucco man’s uniform is dusted by asbestos
there is no exit
the Slavs threaten us
war
quietness, quietness Mr. Minister is talking
war
hallelujah
it blows between the cripple’s crutches
which strike the city doors
it blows from within the guitar of the blind man
who plays at the street corner
it blows amid the bones of the dead
A frightened woman holds her child tightly;
the child hurts and starts crying
the minister yells “shut up”
the bakery worker spits
“pigs
hallelujah”
and his spit, thickened by flour, rises
like bread, tomorrow’s bread
come and eat
it blows
Workers in the sewers, cement workers, garbage collectors,
workers of the gas company, masons, butchery workers
women who sell vegetables in the open market
girls who warm up their hands underarm
some gigantic red hands ravaged by washing
e nation is threatened
for the cause of freedom
but you have to rush, your excellency
they wait for us, for our tea

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