By Barbara Kasomenakis
Once in a while I’m the Queen of Sheba
or a piece of shit
It all depends on
who held the door for me that day
Or if the neighbors smiled real friendly
Thick yellow grin, flesh rips from ear to ear
When you become sensitive to these things
you feel better about your life choices
Who you’ve met
What you’ve seen
And why your bed has become the best world to live in
Next time you see me, hold the door wide open and give me your best saccharine smile
I might just fall asleep
****
(A reaction to the recent fires in Greece)
Burnt to crisp in a dying embrace
You held the hands of strangers,
exchanged fingerprints
And squeezed until your hands vibrations
matched those of roaring flames
For years you hid behind pastoral palaces
And were afraid to create memories and remember faces
You sweat through black garbs,
gossiped of generations past and
Quickly apologized to God for everything just said
You did not flee to the ocean
You did not ask for help
Instead you silently thanked God for this departure
And thanked God for a nation’s urn