Butterflies

The sorrows of marriage, bronze
Laid, on the spring tables
Hanging, dowry on new timber
Pawned to street hawkers
Donated, kerchiefs on sweaty men’s necks
With slow gait, circular, in the same relentless pace
Well-knit, under the black shirring petticoats of the grandmothers who lost their girls prematurely from
appendicitis and slept with open eyes till death

The narrow shoes of the Annunciation hurt us
A persistent cough
The rigid austerity of the mother who knew flawlessly the art of weaving
And the butterflies,
writhed daily
Downtrodden in nettles
outside the old ice factory
without arising suspicion

«δυτικά της Σαπφούς»
Publishers Mandrake May 2015