by Christos Polydorou

A working
prayer :

Like a
charm :

In the hands of a charming
charmless man :

on a cosmic
scale :

a parallel
mystery :

a product of chemistry
and aesthetics :

it comes alive :

at the most :

moments :

and everything makes
to me :

when I have
lived in anticipation :

watching the wet
leaves on trees :

and as the year’s last
cherry blossoms :

spin to the ground
some at my feet :

We lost
the words for asking :

for things we need
which is why :

we have too much
yet so little :

Some of the words we had
stitched to our tongues :

Most were forgotten
as they unravelled with the first kiss :

My soul is dimming thing :
I need :
binoculars to see

So I burn:

my body
like a sword:
to cut through
the layers


of time
and human bones


to get to my soul’s glimmer


on the candelabra of an astral chandelier.


I take it

the glimmer

(if successful)

and distill it in a poem
or a gem

This is

This is an attempt
at immortality

Take it

Take it
and run

Keep it safe for me

In flesh for us

On your mouth for your children

Corruscated on your lips for the future

Someone in the future may read it and think of us

and bring us back
from wherever we might be

in the moment they read our poems
and think of us.