Fourth Hour
I touch the smooth surface of water
like a gleaming unspoiled breast
rippling endless exuberance
as the absurdity of seriousness
stumbles in when He elects
to throw punches at
old philosophically-hardened
Death who laughs His guts
out sending up a pair of
devils disguised with velvet
veils to reduce the game
to a parody of errors while
despicable people persist at
loving and sharing things
like nothing happened
an absurdity of seriousness
revealing the light side of
His rookie mind
committing to place
a few bombs in the hands
of idiots who conspire to
commandeer a future throne
and when the ocean is asked
the question I fume
and turn my eyes away
to avoid seeing the hero’s body
dangling from the tower
priest chanting eulogies
fanatics ooing at the sight
as death vowels chorus in cidal
harmony: who cares?
Manolis Aligizakis 