After All These Years You Came Back
…crashing through the door, at a later hour, when my shadow
was stretching and fading.
…when old memories had breezed inside through the tilted windows.
…as the arms of my wristwatch were jittering, unsure
whether to ease themselves towards the new day
or keep mourning the passing one.
…when the tensed pines behind you had broken down
the spectacular wind passing through down to a sigh.
…and the apples in the bowl time-lapsed themselves
from red
to brown
to black.
…with your hair full with cricket song, a tiny orchestra
randomly arranged. Eyes big and pastoral. An owl with a stiff neck.
…like an ancestor going into the woods with an ax, returning
days later with empty hands.
…speechless, no sorry I’m late… or have you taken care of the plants… or
has the milk gone sour yet.
…the overcast sky smooth, a shaved face.
On the clouds’ to-do list storm and thunder about to be checked.
…the sparrows on the laundry line flew off, plucking
a mute guitar note with their weightless talons.
…as all the neighborhood’s stray dogs, those oldest
seismographs, strained their necks and launched
a frenzied alarm.
…and I felt for the first time earth spiraling
towards the center of the galaxy, and I turned my head away,
and I answered,
who is this?
• • •
Konstantinos Patrinos is a writer based in Berlin, Germany. His work has appeared in RHINO, Hunger Mountain Review, Rust + Moth, Tonyon, Clackamas Literary Review, Pinyon, and others. When he’s not writing poetry, he enjoys getting punched in the face during kickboxing classes. He’s a high school teacher of political science and philosophy.