Today’s Poem: from Notes on My Father, by Katerina Anghelaki-Rooke

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from Notes on My Father

The old man moved into his night

a boat all lights on the evening harbor.

The island was in small spring,

The sun came out suddenly

struck the tiles

and disappeared again.

What could the old man know now of spring?

He spelled it out like a child the ABCs

comprehending the flower slowly.

Already something like soil

he had become only surface.

This mortal moved into

the crack in coal

the old sack

loaded with the four seasons

the four ages

with deep aging.

Brown spotted hands

and desperate blue veins.

The dawn of his birth

the village was in snow

the melon patch purple with cold.

His father came from the woods

with a dead boar

slung over his shoulder;

he dropped it in front of the fireplace.

Snow and game

small magic signs

around a wintry belly

Silence . . .

someone is swaying in the garden

someone is fondling the soil

the white soil of night.

I’m waiting for the moon to grow

for all to ease in me

to remember

to remember all miracles

the unmet

most of all.

I want to be in what’s being born

and in what’s ending,

I cast spells on my departing father

spells of love.

At the end of night

at the end of the gully

at the setting of the moon

it was me leaving in love

spellbound

exempt in death

all my forces unmouldered

for eternity.

In a green pasture

in a shady pasture

in a barbarous pasture of oleanders

from under comes all this vegetation

I praise

from under begins

the ascent of fate.

~Katerina Anghelaki-Rooke

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