The Statue Which statue hides in the marble? Which arm holds, in the unknown future, the chisel that is ready to give birth to it? Which time uterus, which lust prepare the unexpected flowering that comes amid pains? Which not-moulded hammer strikes the sound of pulse who’s the sleepy night guard who will open the museum? Which memory, which descendant turns his arm toward the statue who dictates the dead person’s arm sleeping in the marble? Which unknown, future hand will then become chisel to chisel it?
What If What if you stopped staring out from the blue window reversed your sight path and from the balcony gaped at house’s innards spied into secret space of summer sofa no need to whisper for pillow or reddish throw while loving on the bare tiles dawn lights a candle in front of the saint’s lean icon what if you with void eyes saw green raw forms red layered forest and in the chiaroscuro of first light you gazed without gazing?
Ken called and told the story of Isumataq. He offered a painting for the paper, clinching the deal by telling them that everyone involved in the project would very likely win an award and be exposed in some way to massive media coverage. He also threw in some dubious oratory that was so over the top that many people laughed. “Don’t worry about this moment,” he said. “One day you’ll be in paradise with me.” If they snickered behind his back, he didn’t care because by the time he was done he had bartered for every service he needed – ninety thousand dollars worth. His friends called the money he had used to pay for the brochure “Ken dollars” and it was a term that stuck. Elias Vanvakis, another of the young professionals who was a successful insurance broker, commissioned a small pencil drawing of an Inukshuk. “I’ll give it to you,” Ken said. “No, I want to buy it.” “Why would you want to buy it?” “You’re painting the largest Inukshuk – I want the smallest,” he said. Ken pocketed the five hundred dollars Elias offered and drew an Inukshuk, which he handed to him. A few weeks later, on Ken’s forty-fifth birthday, Elias presented him with a small jeweller’s box. Inside was a small gold pin, a perfect replica of the pencil drawing. Ken pinned it to his shirt. Minutes later he was struck by an idea. A larger version of the pin was exactly what the front cover of the brochure needed – but not in gold paint of even gold leaf – a pure gold Inukshuk. The pin inspired yet another idea. The nation’s highest honour for its citizens was The Order of Canada. He wanted something even more prestigious – an honour that was almost impossible to receive – The Order of the Inukshuk. He ordered a dozen more from the jeweller who had designed it. Whenever someone asked about the pin, he smiled and inferred that it was special and only a chosen few would ever have the honour of receiving one. To Rocco he said, “Anyone who buys a ten thousand dollar painting, gets one.” Ken was invited to the Columbus Centre again to give the keynote speech at a dinner honouring Premier Peterson. At the end of the speech he was to give him a painting of an Inukshuk. But instead of doing a simple presentation, he told the story of the Order of the Inukshuk – that the pin was the result of a visionary flood of alcohol consumed in the land of the midnight sun on June 21, the longest day of the year. He explained that they were almost impossible to get and only a few very special people would ever be aware of The Order of the Inukshuk. “They come to certain people who are magic,” he said. “They come to people like me. Everyone else has to fight for them.”
The Next Table He must be barely twenty-two years old. And yet I am certain that the same number of years ago, I enjoyed this same body. It is not an erotic flush at all. And it was just a little while ago that I entered the casino, So, I didn’t have time to drink much. I enjoyed this same body. And if I don’t remember where, my forgetfulness means nothing. Ah, see, now that he sits at the next table I know every move he makes and under his clothes, naked, I see again the limbs I loved.
Manolis Aligizakis 