A Poem Sleeps
guess the book after guessing the writer
Behind the bridal veil, a lost look,
Ill at ease smile, yellowish teeth.
It’s June and I’m a February-poem. I hold the tail of the dress,
Death is the groom.
Tired after this ceremony, I fall asleep.
I wake up in a book whose pages are wheels,
preparing a church for another wedding,
a church that has 28 closed doors.
Athens, 2006 – 2019