Star
Place a frozen star
on my forehead
cross my arms
as if I’m praying
before you slide into
your red dress
to enchant all other stars
murmuring their sweet lullabies
for my ascent
toward them
when I die
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Long Listed for the 2023 Griffin Poetry Awards
Woman in Blue
One woman stopped at the entrance of the cafe.
She wasn’t waiting for anyone. No one waited for her.
Why did she stop there? Who was she? Perhaps
an old forgotten singer or a woman of a certain age
and of a different era who had lost her way.
No one ever found out.
And as it started to get dark, nothing remained
in the world but sorrow, the night, loneliness and
this need to somehow make it in our dark life.
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(Excerpt)
They had almost done the round and Anton realized the place was a huge facility that could house up to 700 hundred kids although at this time there were about 450 as Dylan mentioned: about 200 boys and almost 250 girls from as young as three years old and as old as sixteen. Anton’s work would require him to clean all clothes and beddings of all these kids after the maids had collected them from each dorm; soon as they would get cleaned and placed in bins Anton would then return them to the proper places, situated at the sleeping quarters of the savages and of the teaching and administrative personnel. From there the four maids were responsible to allot them appropriately.
Dylan gave all the instructions he could remember up front confirming that everything else would be learned day after day in practice. With these final words they both went down to the main floor and separated at the front desk, Dylan to his room in the basement and Anton who stood in front of Sister Gladys’ desk.
It was still a beautiful sunny day outside the cold mausoleum as Anton observed the sun rays entering from the top of the door skylight flooding the hallway with optimism and benevolence. Sister Gladys finished the entry she was writing on a thick like a Journal book and upon closing it she said to Anton.
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Philoctetes (excerpt)
The mark of the rope was vaguely seen on her face
as when the hunters were heard on the road
she would correct her expression, pushing aside
a ringlet of her hair as if falling over her eyes;
she was pushing aside the mark of that rope,
we learned of it later, when, at twilight, the last horn
was heard from the far end of the lake, when
a piece of the house stucco fell off noiselessly
and the open plain was steaming, golden and rosy,
from the light-blue hues of the trees, and the dogs,
although tired, tongues hanging out, would
trod lightly as if climbing to heaven in ecstasy.
Soon the evening was filled with shiny colourful wings
of dead birds, laying there on top of the outdoor table
with the platers full of purple, golden, red grapes
and fresh water from the well. Mother would smile
joylessly; and you wanted to be a bird she’d say to me
and she would instruct the servant girls to prepare
the birds for the dinner in the backyard, where
the shadow of the mountain was already falling
as if melted and resembling fiery sparkly iron, and
the gigantic cypresses, austere, dark and all alone,
took their silent inexplicable initiative.
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Manolis Aligizakis 