Big clouds in the dusk, lonely and sunlit. Amid the dark blue, the walls seemed made of an orange gleam. A small balcony over the sea, the ropes and the masts. We delayed with the merchants, the copped scales. The dead were lying naked in the valley and covered by newspapers. Two small lights shivered on the hill. You could wait again in the olive grove and listen to the barking dog, in front of the barbed wire and the two metal armchairs, searching the space around, with that controlled confusion for a star or a thorn that hurts all in the same way.
TO MY WIFE My dear wife, I don’t have to say how much I’ve always loved you. If sometimes we contend and row in turbulence and turmoil living, it’s because I like upheaval and long for rougher seas. Love without some bitterness lacks sweetness, gives no joy, so keep your stern composure, leave me my troubled mind, and know that now and then too calm a sea brings vertigo. Dear wife, though I don’t tell you, you know how much I love you, your laughter but your anger too, and if another woman turn my eye, know that my heart and, yes, my ugliness belong to you for ever and some more.
Capricious Eyes bright as capricious sun doting on children time dodgy when you try to stop the clock feelings pass like clouds while you paint your masterwork tears hot as unplanned lock of lips learning its pain there are dreams in spectrum of poetic virtues penned dare your way onto another mountain ledge coddle another day’s sigh death is a pale horse but you canter forward with glaring light
“Bobby won’t give you a minute’s anxiety,” Emily said, “and neither will Katie. I don’t think I can be so confident about that little monkey, Susie.” “Strangely enough, Mom, it’s not Susie I’d be worried about, it’s Katie. She’s sweet and gentle but I also think she may be easily led. We just pray she’s led in the right ways.” Millie put her needles and unfinished sock on the coffee table in front of her. “As far as you and Morley are concerned, she will be.” She started to rise but sat back quickly with a hand grasping her abdomen. Tyne sat upright, ready to go to her aunt’s aid. “Are you all right, Auntie?” Millie’s face had paled, but she relaxed and forced a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “Yes, I think so. Just a stitch in my side. I’m fine.” She reached for the coffee table, but Tyne gently touched her hand. “Sit for a minute until you feel better. I’ll wash up the tea things.” She collected their cups and plates and carried them to the kitchen. As she ran water into the enamel sink, Tyne said a silent prayer for her aunt. And suddenly she realized there had been something different about Aunt Millie recently. She didn’t have her usual spark, and it was obvious she had been losing weight. Tyne dried the dishes and hung the tea towel over the bar on the oven door, all the while berating herself for being unaware of changes in her aunt. Had her nursing skills deteriorated so much that she didn’t notice something so basic about one of her own family? Where had her attention been? Was she so absorbed in the children’s needs that she hadn’t looked beyond them to the senior people in her life? Maybe it was time she returned to work to brush up on the things that used to be second nature to her. One thing she knew – from now on she would spend more time with Aunt Millie than she had in recent months. And Rachael would have to step up and help with the twins. And maybe, just maybe, that would also solve the problem of the amount of time she spent with Lyssa.
Manolis Aligizakis 