Returning to Ithaki
Come lose me in echo of falling apples – where I search taverna, smell of warm olives,
saganaki, only here; where green mountains cover like monsters from ancient myths
I will rest my final elegy like soft murmuration above sea. sitting at a bay,
same sea that stretched eyes – retained sleek idols in turquoise blue
for kindness becomes cruelty for uncertain strangers who stand next to blue stones
If you may imagine – down alleyways of graffiti in Poseidon’s forked tongue
full Albanian dress – a man emulates Lord Byron including his pencil lined moustache
walks a promenade at night wheels a heart shaped ruby coloured pram
where metal crows faced east – we reimagined – from ruins once palaces
for what paused interruption; will be torn away breath; we channelled today.
Osiris Poetry 