Jardin des Tuilleries
When we parted at the metro,
I saw your figure blow out,
and me, melting wax in my clothes,
saved the last glimpse of you,
gripped on it for the last fraction of a second seized
on and lingered on and then,
time expired with a long birch cry,
turning me over.
It killed me go down to earth like Orpheus,
bullied, down the stairs,
and see you no more.
Today.
As beautiful as the day we met,
the skylight hurts my chest,
haunts me – I breathe heavily,
for I see you coming, smiling,
with an aureole and a foulard;
the open sky is on our back
escalating to its roof, the Heaven;
birds soar and hang in the airy
gardens above in this spacious home,
dangle among psychotropic flowers.
I see you coming and I’m waiting
contented, for only seconds separate us
now – I’m here
like a living star pulsing,
like a flower in the lawn
of the house of the sky,
this is how I am happy.
You’re here, we kiss;
a smudge on the sky is far away.
La petite boule de soleil et de zephyr
I give it to you, you give it to me,
I’ll clutch my fist, I’ll keep it,
we come we go, parting and meeting,
I’ll guard the spell of love,
I’ll keep it.
Zoe Karathanasi is from Greece and lives in Paris with her husband and daughter. She is currently studying for an MA in Poetry at the Manchester Metropolitan University. Her poems have appeared in the Wayfarers and the Open Mouse of Poetry Scotland.