Lucy Alexander #17 On Mt Zeus

and the wind made hollows

of our mouths

distance was the mottled colour

of hill over hill out of seascape

and whoosh into view the vutures

grey enourmous

rising on the updraft

of water marinated air

as they soared

above the mountain

above the village where we had made our home

and Despina told me to hurry

and have a baby as soon as I could

but all I could nurture were the

memories; the crocus, the cave where he ate his children

their shadows on the ancient walls

stone after stone and the vultures

as grey and as knowing.