“Loneliness is worst than deadliness.”
Thieves in Mind
Crying she describes
how burglars wrecked the house
the wretches took her jewelry and raped
an old woman’s values.
Isn’t she happy?
It’s been years since any thief
set foot in my house
even for coffee.
I deliberately leave the pot unlocked.
On returning each time I pray
to find the door’s canines broken
the lights shaking as if just having knocked
against a tall earthquake’s head
to see the burial gifts stolen
from the mirror’s mummy kingdoms
as if someone had shaved in the bathroom
and whiskers had sprouted on my beardless touch
their refutation bound hand and foot on the floor
and, coming at its leisure from the kitchen, steam
from warm footprints with lots of cinnamon on top.
by Kiki Dimoula
translation: David Connoly
from: A Minute’s Licence; Published: “Poetry Greece 2”;