Author: thecradle

Katerina Iliopoulou

Here the days don’t dissolve in air
they fall into the water
shaping their own shell
a sheen of separation.
A hawk flies over summer’s body
diving again, again
feeding and drunk from the fall.
There’s nothing here
but manic wind alone and stones
and sea
a senseless promise
sharpens our lust with the moon’s blade.

Continue reading “Cape Tenaron”