LONG LISTED FOR THE 2023 GRIFFIN POETRY AWARDS
House on Route
Knowing my strange passion for suffering, I decided
to think of everything else later: and saying everything
I mean that voice that suddenly yelled “Jacob” even
if my name wasn’t Jacob; what for? Since the persons
in the story that was ending were different and we were
just tidying the furniture
I only remember the fear on father’s face as he entered
the room and said to me, “he’s not leaving, he’s here
for good” despite of what I was to say
besides I grew old, I can’t see as I used to and I don’t
know who to blame, I or Maria, or the old carpet that
with mathematical accuracy withers slowly and soon,
alas, the foreign hand will appear
onto which we had built the house.
Hellenic Canadian Literature 