Poem by Chloe Koutsoubelis
Perfect Day
It wasn’t the seashore
of Salonica during the daybreak
so cleanly washed by
the hues of the rain
nor the sea
hoarse, violent,
wild lion with blue flames,
it wasn’t the benches in rows
with the fatty loneliness
of their emptiness,
it was that last night I dreamed
perhaps for once
for the first time, first time death
you entered my body
behind my soul
under the mouths of the body,
you entered me and stayed.
Libros Libertad 