Long Listed for the 2023 Griffin Poetry Awards

https://griffinpoetryprize.com/press/2023-longlist-announcement/

Then the great silence took control
and the sun started going down
amid the fiery sky in the west.
And the sky turned red. And the soil red like blood.
Nothing was heard on the whole earth.
And dark phalanxes started appearing
slowly-slowly coming down the slopes.
The war dead started appearing
from all the plains, the gorges, the mountains,
the roads.
They unfolded into black long lines as if
they were going to battle
and they proceeded dragging along their feet
and they staggered with their bodies leaning forward
as if they had walked for a long time
as if they felt tired of waiting for so long
and they marched and limped and they stirred slowly
at the far end of the world.
The earth quaked every so often then it cracked open
and a black-green hand poked out of the soil
and stretched its rotten fingers.
The dead stirred and stood up
and they stepped on the other dead and walked
and they dragged themselves on the earth
and grabbing onto the army coats of the others
they rose and joined the phalanxes making
millions of walking dead.
The horizons turned fiery red as if the world was on fire.
Dead men were coming from the trenches,
from subterranean stoas, holes,
they were coming from the mass graves dug in
the plains
where they buried them in haste as if they were shoveling
a pile of manure.

https://www.amazon.com/dp/1926763564