Jetstream
Look at the jet stream
I pointed to the sky,
among the clouds, a teardrop
falling on thirsty soil
to absolve death.
The smooth bark of the slender
palm tree that shivers
to annul Hades
rough leaf cut-offs
turned into eternity
over the gravestone’s time.
Why do you say this?
Because the poet’s glance observes
the curvaceous body
of the server with
her red minimal thong
and the airplane-mosquito
with the enormous dream
of the passenger resting
in the seat twenty-four alpha
Manolis Aligizakis 