In the Airport

A man called Dad walks by

then another one does. Dad, you say

and he turns, forever turning, forever

being called. Dad, he turns, and looks

at you, bewildered, his face a moving

wreck of skin, a gravity-bound question

mark, a fruit ripped in two, an animal

that can’t escape the field.

 

Eleni Sikéliànos

Quelle: poets.org

 

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