Though my left wrist is
in order
my wave to you is a messy sky
But the face always escapes
towards its desire
All the Trojan horses have
been conquered
they just guard a suffocating past
Into my ‘Ludovician’ palaces
the anchored battles
are proud for the lost sieges
Killer times have post
rewards
for my intentions
but no one can find
the fugitive dreams
They hide in disguise
behind seemingly innocent rocks
They always keep an umbrella
in fear of meeting harmless colors
Into the industrial
nightmares
they silently practice
their deafening color palette
despite the ugliness of an artificial world
who stole Mona Lisa’s smile
Maria Rodopoulou
