Blacksmith
…He too was a good son to a father,
good-mannered son, quiet student
regular to his classes, his catechism
school where he learned how to
live peacefully, he too was a young
boy who, one afternoon at the back of
the altar, suffered at the hands of
the young beardless deacon
that grey day when everything changed
and old Dimitris, the blacksmith
has kept the guilt in his heart,
amorphous unshaped concept,
like the steel burning in his kiln
which after he put on the anvil
and pounded it with such mania
as if it was the violating penis of
that beardless young deacon.
Libros Libertad 