I feel free Madame Bloom; the Northern wind has cleansed me
you kneel before sculpted flowers, eager to recreate a village seen through skimmed postcards by a sender you’ve wished to ignore
I, on the other hand, forgot to water mine, last year’s Christmas present –
shrivelled like prunes. Funny that, it was as if you expected it. Yet, you didn’t utter a word. I’ve come to accept that you’ve been silenced by a genocide you rarely mention.
to you my lady I am faithful, a fact you can’t deny. Pleasing you with my bourgeois ways and discreet departures
Unexpected that Southern wind, knocked me to the ground
an omen. I’m sure you’d agree.
Dina Kafiris © 2009