Today they say that the pink full moon will come, so as they say, it is true and the earth will change in me.
I see nothing pink, only a yellow clay dome over my face, waterless, ancient, as if I am being grafted from the soil that the African peoples paint their faces.
I don’t see anything pink, only that my hair has aged with patience, but I still love chocolate, uncooked bitter beer, colorful ribbons, diaries with rhymes.
I know the blush and the soft lip gloss and how I enjoy bathing in the shallows, washing the warm water of the sun off the tire, spitting the liospore husks on the cement. I see nothing pink but the deep lines in my palms, the divination that shows no way, nor the great door, but flutters hours and hours in the aperture like a wand-maker over water.
I don’t think pink, only that frozen hugs, orange starfish and the claws of evil squid scare me. I don’t really remember anything pink, only the endless nights, the love of the night, the yellow night light in the windows, the quiet cool mornings, the key on the door and the red eyes.
I don’t expect pink, but I have seen clear, holy eyes, the silences that speak tenderly, the calm hands that know how to wait for the body that hurts everywhere. They say the moon will come tonight, but I won’t see it. I have a sick little dog, he doesn’t care how to get away, he licks the blood from his wounds and still begs me for food. I kiss it every day on the cheeks and smell it insatiably because love digs as long as it lives and breathes. I have planted the seeds from a cypress apple in the pot and I am anxiously waiting for them to come out.
A bonsai is sometimes bigger than an old cedar, and anything pink overtakes it.
Athena Titakis
Athena Titaki was born and raised in Nice. She works as a midwife at the Panarkadian hospital in Tripoli. She loves her work very much, as she loves dancing, expressing herself, creating. She cultivates her garden, cooks, gives form to the gate. He has published the poetry collections, “After Surprise” (2014), “Ninety-nine pulses and a corrector” (2019) and a non-fiction collection, with the title “Erotically clear” (2016), all from Mandragoras publications.
