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Common Knowledge 11.2 (2005) 319-325



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Six Poems

Aloe Vera

We spread moisturising cream for a dry skin
on the dead man's face
and his niece knelt in front of the coffin
praying thus: Come on, Aloe Vera,
make my uncle's cheeks rosy,
and you, almond oil, tickle him round the lips,
I know that will wake him up from even the deepest dream,
a neighbor threw in that Aloe Vera does miracles
and is it not obvious from the look of her skin
like a baby's, she said, and she's already pushing fifty.
We all turned to her and forgot
that the mask should be left for 7 minutes on a live person's face,
and on a dead person's—three, his niece's prayer ended,
the mask broke, we buried the taxi driver
without his face, but refreshed from the inside. On the way back,
a cloaked woman appeared in front of us
with a tray full of red apples.
There are as many truths as there are apples, she said, here,
help yourselves,
isn't it true, newlyweds, that survival in this world
depends solely on those in love for the first time on an embankment [End Page 319]
brimming with unrecycled romance? She must be mad,
thought he, and the bride started yelling at the top of her voice:
"You see? And you have let go my hand a thousand times!"
and she unmarried the hairdo to get which
she had spent her whole life under the hair drier, so that to her
the funeral they were returning from smelled of an ozone hole. The dead man
put his hand in his pocket and never removed it again in Einstein's world.
Was it a funeral or a wedding, Aloe Vera?
Who married whom? Who buried whom?
Translated by Ljubica Arsovska and Margaret Reid [End Page 320]

Kyrie Eleison

The first cathedral I ever saw was in Katerini
when we were shopping for denim skirts,
five blouses for a thousand drachmas + one free,
winter sweaters in the middle of August and leather waistcoats,
Oh God, the cathedral tolled at noon sharp,
Kyrie and I looked at each other eye to eye,
my father said to me: We have collected the Greek scum.
But the sea was clean and Vasili was not ugly,
scum is scum, although he whispered tenderly Sagapo.
In Katerini I insisted on having my own way with the fragrant letters
lacking correct addresses. The women in the post office
would cross out the name of my country,
so where else could all those letters end
if not in their famous dump?
The cathedral stands monotonously in place,
my faith in Him is weak, so I had to shout out in the middle of the street:
Scum, Greek scum!
And Vasili said: I haven't been to Mt. Athos yet
but when I go I'll bring you an icon of the holy quartet:
Wisdom, Faith, Love, and Hope,
a snake bit my heart, a man with such freedom before God
cannot be classified under the word scum,
even though I cried when my sister decided to remain in Katerini
and give birth to Greeks.
Cathedral, you could wake up at the other end of the world,
and still be called cathedral,
but I did not even have enough sun, did not try the blouses on
but just turned to face Katerini and prayed:
Eleison, Eleison Kyrie, and stay in good health
in clean places and in scum—whose ever, wherever.
Translated by Ljubica Arsovska and Margaret Reid [End Page 321]

The Bald Prima Donna

Some people look at me with suspicion.
Some animals evade me.
The sun smells of your navel.
You are perfectly absent.
For years now you have not lived
in your apartment with round rooms.
I undo the padlock
with one of my hairpins.
My hair gets stuck in the keyhole.
I leave it there.

Bald, I enter your apartment.
You're there, however, handsome and old
Growing cucumbers...

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