Not Another
No more, not that disputed shape, a big
body undivided on the metal bed with
its other side turned to the wall. I, he said,
on a persistent exercise of silence, on a
persistent exercise of the one-digit numbers
and the counting, as calm as possible, yet
hearable, three, six, nine, with the simple
shape of the lips like when you give the most
distanced kiss to the hand of the dead man.
Manolis Aligizakis 