Gravestone
Eros descends to cheer the melancholic youth who sits on the gravestone as if seeking his death in the whirl of love, while the widow tosses and turns in the pangs of the tormenting moon
— You haven’t put the barbecue away when you plan to do it, at midnight?
Echoes of voices from the city arouse the widow’s sexuality, dressing her skin in the whiteness of the jasmine flowers. Never close your eyes in front of the most desperate death, don’t ever close your eyes in front of the most deplorable killing
— I want you to tighten the screw of this faucet the water splashes all over my sink
Nothing matters more than the armchair craving my body as the widow craves her late husband
— I want you to polish the dining room table and chairs: hear me?
I had in mind to write a poem when suddenly my wife, a new Armageddon demanded her share of my time
—I want you to sit here and look straight into my eyes all day long!
Manolis Aligizakis 