Oestrus* for Death
They turned the fear of death
into the oestrus of their lives
~Andreas empiricos
I
The spastic woman lost control
and the carriage bridled in pain like an animal
that dashed out screeching wildly.
soon after
like sudden nausea
the memory of the real body
came back to her
and the unfortunate woman
restarted going on her small wheels
almost joyously.
opposite, wrapped in the rosy hues
of the gray time,
the house where Thrush was born.
Ah, but first I have to describe
the reef to which I swam:
its shape, its khaki colour
reminded me of a backpack
like those we filled with sandwiches
eons ago in our youth.
I kept on closing to the reef
helped by the waters
with their light-blue blouses
that had painted on them the cypresses
from the cemetery on the opposite shore.
The beautiful temptation had overtaken me:
to not ever return again
to close the underwater cycle
around my neck,
necklace of unimaginable value.
As I swam farther out
I slowly ripped the fabric of the sea
I kicked down loves that surfaced
I kicked them back to their weedy beds.
Then I questioned myself
if I had truly desired
those acceptable shapes
of the desirable, something
between the subjected body
and the empty talk.
eros is the only godly glance
that might fall on us
the unbelievers, I would say.
Yet, look, how the sea with the blue
eyelids arouses me now
I’m lasciviously scared
and I float on ditch water
not knowing where it takes me
because I walk on
the invisible side of lust:
death.
oestrus — strong desire (metaphorically)
Manolis Aligizakis 