[The sea's purple at Piraeus...] Poem by Erik Lindner

The sea's purple at Piraeus.

A flag creeps over the bell tower
when the wind turns.

A man steps over a dog.
A woman, bending, rubs her eyelid.

In an umbrella shop an umbrella falls off the counter.

On a narrow branch sits a dove
that falls off, flutters and alights again
the berry that's too far away at the furthest tip of the branch
the branch that sags, the collar that puffs up as the dove shifts.

A girl who gets on the tube with a desk drawer.

On the thick sand down by the surf
an angler extends his rod horizontally
a bike next to him on its stand.

He stands feet apart as if peeing.
Bird footprints in the sand.
The rod arches over the sea.

Translated by Paul Vincent