Toward the End
The night guard said he didn’t know. Cars were lined
along the shore with their headlights on. The river, lit
in some places, flowed fast. The soldier was holding
the woman by her hair; the woman was naked.
The frogs sang in the night perforated by yellow dots.
One by one, we hid behind the trees. We had our watches
and waited for our end while we kept a piece of
cotton between our teeth. Then, the handsome trumpeter
appeared high up in the lit window of the tower next to
the escapee with the big flag. Then, nothing was left but
a general, iconic friendship, the wiping of the knife on
the coat, the planting of the lemon tree in the garden.
Manolis Aligizakis 