Blood
Most people don’t understand
whether the fire rises
from behind the mountain or
is shot out of the pistol’s barrel
it always burns you.
For this, so many of our dreams
remained unrealized and
inexplicable happiness was laid
in the display window
of the department store as
loneliness was again eulogized
in churches,
but as the years went by
the man with the severed arm,
wrote on other people’s
discoloured walls,
one-word written
with fiery red letters:
blood, blood, blood.
Manolis Aligizakis 