SHADES OF SMYRNA

Athens

Past refugees

haunt the streets of this city.

Pavestones cover forgotten lives,

each district conceals

a trail of hardship and loss.

Their dreams are long eclipsed

but surface when the moon comes up

invoked by timeless music

from bouzoukis

as people dance in clubs

or couples chat

in sleepy kebab shops

over barrelled wine

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Beneath majestic heights

public footsteps

ring a tapestry of sound.

Time surrenders  here,

hushed voices

slice through space.

In ancient plans

the sky has been considered,

clouds float across

ascending lengths of glass

not stained but clear

while high in the dome's  recesses

portholes angle to paradise.

Thick with prayers

stone walls are candle-b...

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PET SHOP STORY

I should get up and sell mice

but I'll stay here instead

in the warm, embryonic bed,

and what is a mouse's life?

Getting your head crushed

for a bit of cheese,

or squirming like an addict

under the merciless paw.

I sink in dreams, a jaded skull

trailing hair all the way down

to the sad, depleted market

where I meet the others:

th...

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HOMUNCULUS

The clay head seems to scream

when I open the chest:

an unwanted gift

with secrets trapped in time.

Shaped by a mad sailor,

lost helmsman on dark seas,

chaos crew a sub-plot

to some misguided saga.

I caress its weight

of barren, merciless islands

cruel as shipwrecks

through heart and soul.

Each day a signal to me

it doesn't belong...

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LIVERPOOL 1946

The slick-haired sailor boy

is home for good in civvies.

He walks two miles each night

to hold your nervous hand

and takes you dancing Fridays,

a half of bitter in the Crown.

Twin sister reckons a catch

but Dad's on sentry at the door.

One day he introduces you

to his mother and the chaos

of that sprouting family;

he's bagged a job in ta...

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GRANDMA'S HOUSE

Defunct flies lay clenched

tight as fists, webs hung low

near holy statues positioned

to ensure she'd go to heaven.

I nosed my uncles' rooms

while they were out at work,

broke open dog-ends, tasted

gold strands, sweet at first

but bitter in the throat.

She sang rebellion as her sponge

slopped from bucket to floor,

argued in the bare-bricked ...

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She was an agile acrobat

on broken rooftops of escape,

jumping into arms euphoric

before pain had time to register.

Armies advance across steppes,

houses gutted for sustenance.

Machine guns and home-made

grenades zipping over walls.

He dreamed a nest of miracles

a golden goose in the attic;

sad executions on frozen earth

while skies remain indifferent.

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