The Tray with the Specks

The Tray with the Specks Poems of the Selection translated from the Greek by David Connolly

THE BINDING

(Yesterday) At the frontier the moon was an introvert and pinned a bee. (Today) On the quay they’ll understand nothing. A cargo of raisins will set sail anew. (And yet) The adverts were somehow strange. Once again the tray was empty Once again the fish covered in specks.

IN THE PHOSPHORIC MILLS

Those there. Those there brought no messages. They surrounded our town’s buildings with thin / electrified wire. ALONE they exempted the phosphoric mills under which passed – a vomiting youth – the River Acheron.

THE CASHING OF MYTH

The Mermaid’s words concerning the king were not broken wings or plastic vessels that melted from improper use. They were coins that were cashed by Jocasta Maelstrom of discourse Without light.

THE (CHILDREN’S) PLAYGROUND

In the Children’s Playground the children’s dolls play the same game always And the sun – the blood-red mill – silently grinds the apples of death.

THE DESCENT

When at times his eyes rose up from the abysses resurrected You could see inside them could see Slaughtered lambs Old dates And you said In the butcher’s shop of desire You said – I’m called Tiresias You’re called Pasiphae.

NOTES ON THE STILLNESS OF SNAKES

Just as it was growing dark He realized that he no longer had arms. Two knives carved the apples As though translating Oedipus As though translating Oedipus for a little murdered light.

THE ANNIVERSARY

We walk between that familiar void and little piles of garbage That’s why our hands plunge secretly into dreams’ pockets That’s why the fish’s lips are shut That’s why our thoughts ever ask us: How do they embalm butterflies?