Concrete Plans
among live shadows you walk
remembering the name of the streets, the scent of the acacia
(easier than your lover’s shapes)
“you did not chose me,
I have chosen you” – You
remember the Word
and that is why you lift
your leg again for you still hope
that without you happiness doesn’t exist
only through you and you exist through it –
and you listen like a moving algae
with glistening red eyes
for those who inquire
who don’t allow you to speak
and in your mouth rot
all unspoken verbs
a miracle: within our memory
(where even the unburied corpses
have numbers) we open the tombs –
with faces kept between our phalanxes
march our dead –
innocent (as if before their birth)
they march
and their march is real…