Chris Zachariou

impish fairies
bait the child
with handfuls
of red berries
...

The poet with unbridled thoughts
and the scent of fledgling sparrows
on her lips
rides bareback to the river
...

For many years now I live alone
in a tiny single room by the canal.
I have no photographs on the walls
there are no books on the shelves
...

Rise to the dizzy heights
dream the dreams
and think the thoughts
that you and only you
...

Our only reality— words
their beauty the lovechild of minds alike.

Now a new world is dawning.
...

Across the ocean
in a country far away
a moth cocooned
works night and day
...

I see their names carved in stone
on marble crosses with roots of bone

trees dripping with death and tears
...

A fierce wind scorches Cordoba
tonight
lewd and shameful like a voracious lover.
...

Men with God on their side
fly high in the burning skies.

Napalm death pours down
...

I.

clandestine smiles and glances
meander to the little cinema
...

My Lord,
our covenant

"The Messiah
...

We close her eyes
we kiss her forehead
then darkness for eternity.
...

We talk of poets and white doves
till sunrise
of blushing anemones, chilled juice
and ice cream and mother's apple pie.
...

Two by two, the crew
board the boat to El Dorado
with a rout of rusty knights
sitting at the captain's table.
...

Thank you

for the beauty
the word
...

At the crossroads of the world
the sacred whore is lost in dreams
of cinnamon and purple nights.
...

Reflections of my lover
dancing on the frozen lake
echoed every night on the
walls of the grey scullery.
...

I whispered:
'There are many kinds
of oceans between us
I know but come';
...

A harbinger of woe—
his fearsome knock was heard at noon
on the tailor's door.
...

Death was brutal.
The child gasped for air
but there was none.
...