Καθώς θα προσπαθήσω να ολοκληρώσω αυτό που ο θάνατος του πατέρα μου διέκοψε βίαια.
Ας είναι η ποίηση το προσωρινό μας ξετέλεμα.
A thin fawn ripple reverbates
Through still skin,
From a Horses eye,
Kneel in the frosted
Pasture until a flame
Coloured gelding jaunts
In from Parmigianino.
Stand and you shall
Find a colbolt glance
Naming your soul
With the taste of
A lovers felicity.
Yellow pollen linked an eye and a whorl.
The dry dust of mealy pine suffused
The flanks of Mares.
The air is mute.
As Equus questions the
Blank flashes of my drawing
Paper, i find a gap.Like grain
Between teeth it seeks to immure
Me from nodding
Horse. I have walked
Away.
Patrick Hromas "The Refraction Of Equus (A Diptych)"
