People

Yannis Kondos

MIDDAY DREAM

- How many afternoons I slept alone
with my skin -

Splintered doors letting in
strips of gardens.
In the distance, just visible,
a girl is playing “The Last Post' on a bugle.
A dead man falls from the sky,
light as a feather.
He gets hitched onto the roof.

“Now they bury them deep, and it’s raining.'

It’s raining.
Light rusts.
It’s stopped.
The girl just manages
to swallow her bugle.

Everything fades out.

A bell tolls frenziedly.

(Noon full of ink and stones.)

MERCURIAL TIME, The Sceptre Press, Knotting, Bedfordshire, 1978.
http://www.poiein.gr/archives/2305