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Poetic Conclusion by Katerina Anghelaki-Rooke
Katerina Anghelaki Rooke
This
I remember I had started a long poem.
I thought: it will be a long poem about this.
This? What "this"?
I was sitting at a wooden table, rotten
with its green paint worn out.
"I have no other eternity except my life", I thought
as pink leaves from old copy books
leaves of the heart
juicy lips, luminous hair
in sparkling mirrors
were leved as if loaded on trains
trains as fast as lightning
But life stayed behind
and had a taste...oh what a taste!
I was once at a party - where? -
I was offered something,
a round fruit and a body
other than my own had absorbed me.
My mind moves like a hand
fumbling something at the bottom of a bag;
the fingers of the mind are surprised
by the find;
a bodyless threat
something like a crust of bread
forgotten at the bottom.
My loved ones sitting silent
in half darkness, listening to something...
are moved and shake their head
- a white hair head -
my dead ones, still suffering
slide their frightened poems
under my door;
in-between the lines I read:
"death can be postponed, dread never".
But beyond the essence of threat
I am looking for the root of an invisible emotion.
Was it when mother called me
"my little companion"
or when i touched a chest
with a naked heart?
"What's all this, what's all this..."
I hear inside me the shriek of a bird
"that's not what you are looking for,
this is not it."
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