plaka

 

plaka*

on    the street   the breadth   of greeting
the paving stones
are  coarse marble   like that
light    blinding the sea’s edge    discarding
islands     are worked and lived into place.
the    joints natural    as the     run and return
of thought / that the
rains    thread silver into the
clefts    the summers chip    light between
them.

you stand    a chair    outside / the legs
stagger a sound / small
held together    enough
to    rest your    self    a short-lived frame
through which
the days enter.
the weave    of the seat    figures    the lay of
pine needles sprinkled
on the    cold    underheel where the weathers
man    with task that     fills and empties
out the gut like    bread
have heeled out     the stone

in the dusk
that heartens the voice
light    on the    calm
the coming together of
shadows /
in the morning
breaking cries    out of the
rock       out of the shutters
opening out a chill room.

*meaning ‘paving stone or flagstone’ in greek.
Also denotes the old centre of Athens.

october 1989

Copyright © 1989 Peter Le Baige.  All Rights Reserved

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