Mind (Night Bus)

by Christos Polydorou


Plato! you picked
up the body, climbed
Mount Olympus,
and threw it, off the
edge. If as you said you
did it to make sense
of the pieces, then
why do we feel
protagonists of a 19th
century gothic novel, rather
than figures of papers written
in Ancient Greece? Put the
pieces back together,
Plato, that you claimed
we needed broken,
in examinable parts, brains,
livers, collar-bones, eye-sockets,
so as to proceed.
What you saw when
you saw the pieces strewn,
what you noticed,
observed,
said,
and wrote:
all the poets of past
and future are vying
for this tilting, nocturnal moment.

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