what am I?
endless cycle
an oval, something or nothing
how does my nature shine immaterially
through mirror image or single reflection
am I going or coming
westerly wind or southerly sirocco
I crack the shell of an age-old crypt
come out with force and survey horizons
I braid wonders in the hair of unseen Aphrodites
well up in spurts of water
and pull stone fireflies out of crevices
I water the dry steppes, scattering myself, a euphoria of sea spray
and emerge as a rainbow, drink in chaos and create chlorophyll
sprinkle gametes and sperm and emerge as a rainbow
until I am embraced in the depths of her womb
I craft utterances and stitch dragonfly wings onto my shoulders
plummet like Icarus and plunge into depths of certainties
search for pearls spawned by the Untainted Seashell*
when as a water lily on the lake of oblivion
I heave a gentle sigh in time and space
the boundless breath of stars
blue glow of the
galaxy
__________
*Alludes to the Akathist Hymn from the Eastern Orthodox liturgy—“the standing hymn,” during which congregants are expected to remain standing. It is addressed to Mary, referred to as the “invincible champion.” From Ode 5, “Thou spacious tabernacle of the Word, Hail! O immaculate one, thou seashell which didst proffer the Divine Pearl; Hail!” The Menaion, by Romanos the Melodist. Translation © Holy Transfiguration Monastery, Brookline, Massachusetts.
I emerge
into the light
primordial spawn of a cave clan
I bring with me the cosmos in memory
and tread into the present
the beginning of the beginning
on a transcendent riverbed
I move intuitively
and attune my ear to splashing sounds
whispers of silk
nuances of colour
sympathetic vibration
a serene lightburst nearby
my mind a microcosm of the universe
my body an ark of desire
my gaze a dream reflected
the primal scream of heartbreak
my arrival a return
MY NAME IS EVA
my name is Eva and I am one half
—merely a piece of his side, after all—
they called me a naughty thing
I ate the head of the ouroboros*
the snake ate its own tail and
Adam the apple
then the world came to its senses
great concepts were invented
miasma, hubris, cunning, expulsion
we anointed a supreme judge to tip the scales
and turned innermost desire into guilt
I was destined to personify it
my left breast and the trembling of my buttocks
and that dimple in my throat recalled it
we of course lost the cast of innocence
yet came out winners in the quest
how else could such tedium and perfection be bearable?
the most important thing nevertheless happens at night
when the moment is transfigured into a perennial tree
then I bow to it with devotion
I come out of the self
and become a feather of Icarus
melting into the man’s chest
imagine—all were born of my womb:
the first man, both Abel and Cain
and the gods and daemons alike
__________
* The serpent that devours its own tail.
Excerpts from the collection: My name is Eva, Mandragoras publications, 2023.
English translation: Vassiliki Rapti and Peter Bottéas
Supplication
Lands of sun,
where you cannot face the sun.
— George Seferis, The Wreck of ‘The Thrush,’ 1947
(trans. Rex Warner, 1960)
For the ethereal forests ablaze and awestruck
For the wooden wolves with glassy eyes
For the dying ashes where the nomad has trod
For the swan mired in lacustrine mud
For the man weeping before captured slaves
For the ravenous hunger of deformed mouths
For myself ensconced apathetically in my cocoon
For the despicable days of dark anarchy
For the ageless daughter, the unfading rose
Procession
Lambs procéss with bowed heads
Herd sculptures in motion
Following the flutter of wings
Blue lilies gasp for breath
Incandescent glimmers
Reflected tears
Never-ending crosses
Resurrection tarries
Procession
Mad, Fulsome Pomegranate Tree
Mad, fulsome pomegranate tree
unsparingly you scatter
and spread your flames
trying to quell the darkness.
Blood watered the earth
love, still unquenched,
wanders on.
Excerpts from the collection: Everything Falls Silent, Resounds Deafeningly, Sounds Incomprehensibly, Romi Editions, 2020.
Translation: Vassiliki Rapti and Peter Bottéas
WORDS ARE DWINDLING
Words are dwindling
grown numb
they dissolve in the mouth,
abitter pill,
A knot in the throat,
they shoke me.
The words are exhausted;
language unintelligible
in murmurs and shrieks
bent over
swaying back and forth
laments –
Anguish words cannot touch,
Horror words cannot reach.
Excerpt from the collection: Words Are Dwindling, Melani Editions, 2017.
Translated by: Robert Crist and Despina Lala Christ.
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