Poem by Kiki Dimoula
carrying my hope in his steps
brought an envelope
with your silence.
My name was written on it with forgetfulness.
My address in an inexistent street.
However the post-man discovered it
retreating on my face
gazing the windows that stooped with me
to read my hands
that were already preparing an answer.
I’ll open it with my patience
and with my sadness
I’ll copy your unwritten words.
I’ll answer tomorrow
and I’ll send you my picture.
I’ll place some wilted clover on my lapel
with the locket of a crash
engraved in the chest
and I’ll hang on my ears — think of it —