Collective edition of the poems of Titos Patrikios, Volume II (1959-2017).

MEMORY FROM ATHENS

Terraces with cracked Maltese tiles
sucking the rain, low-ceilinged laundry rooms
pots with old hats and stacks of magazines
bronze faucets, melted soap of laundry
wooden stairs washed with a bucket and stairs
iron external stairs like upright naked shells.
And as they climbed running
Thekla Theodora Theoni
at each step they revealed a corner of their flesh.
Thekla Theodora Theoni
with the moving hinges of their sweaty armpit
the upside-down delta under the skirt
and the wavy omega
crowned with the bow of the apron.

THE VIOLENCE

I try to say things
by their name
and every now and then I encounter
new difficulties.
For example, to say violence, violence,
not peaceful intervention
the violence of the rich and powerful,
nor inevitable extremes
the violence of the poor and oppressed.
I am troubled by the mutations
of what we call the necessity of History
the reversals in the movements of politicians
the countless analyses of publicists
but mainly I am entangled
by my own interpretations and guilt.
I would like to openly say now
that I have come to detest
every, whoever it may be, violence.