SIXTH DAY
Your face extended
like the whitewashed rooms
of the paternal home.
The doves were taking communion
from your hand and they were leaving
in your eyes compassion for
the crawlers and little earth beings.
Your high-noon bloomed like carnation
and you saunter among the tall columns
decorating them under the night stars.
Now you lean on pride
the altar of sighs
Manolis Aligizakis 