PateraBy Christina Strigas
|
Your brown eyes changed us,
bony and sunken fragile and lonely on a bed when hours could have been months so many last goodbyes— we were never sure if time meant the same to you. Death had its grip around your life. Seven months of this. I drove to Sherbrooke Street, scored comforting morphine, tracking days— gave it to you for release from your eyes when your voice was gone forever. Prepare the essentials for a funeral; death is tapping lightly. Make your lists, dig open the wet earth, rely on human hands, let the cold hands carry your years. In kindness, it fires back, this isolated pain of the dead, inferno pyre: an element of survival. They stop breathing—you stop feeling. A rapid devouring of time— drink the shots. Warm the dead body in you. Kiss his forehead. Wonder why he won’t need art again. Watch strangers carry his body from the house on a stretcher, a red blanket tucked beneath his feet. Christina Strigas is a trilingual poet raised by Greek immigrants, and has written three poetry books. Her latest, Love & Vodka, has been featured by CBC Books in “Your Ultimate Canadian Poetry List: 68 Poetry Collections Recommended by you.” She is currently working on her fourth upcoming poetry book, Love & Metaxa. In her spare time, Christina enjoys foreign cinema, reading the classics, and cooking traditional Greek recipes that have been handed down from her grandmother.
Twitter: @christinastriga Instagram: @c.strigas_sexyasspoet Facebook: Christina Strigas Author |