Second Hour
I move my brush toward the eastern field
and the cows stop spinning their tails
splashed in light brown although
worm and eagle earn gratification
in the nimble yawn of nostalgia
of life in Chronos’ pendulum
tender sparrow tackles two seeds
in his beak and retreats to his brother
in the bushes one teardrop in an
irksome afternoon when even chewing
a stick of gum embalms you
with such pleasure you couldn’t
think yourself more lucky
as you breathe fresh air rising
off seashore dusk always
recurring as a faithful friend after
a tough day’s work then starts
the game of cynical Death
evangelizing his fearsome enigma
The dark wind blows
as from the future and undresses
a decaying reality concocted by
hands of the few though the rose
traverses past eyes of the girl
who reflects at the redness of her lips
shrugging her shoulders my loneliness
in the path enmity grasps
thin air and ponders the question
while headmaster cinches the noose
around an apostate’s muscled neck
without concern for mercy
carves emblems and insignia
inked with blood crying out: who cares?
Manolis Aligizakis 