Yannis Kondos

- 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.

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