Anna Niarakis, Two poems

Ruby Red in the Garden of Eden

Laying naked on my back, a sudden rush bewildered me
Was I not now in my bed, the softly matressed nest of mine, of
pillow fights and sweaty sleeps; of agave siruped dreams of love,
And nightmares of lonely deaths
But I was now among green trees, vibrant colorful autumn leaves
And serpents singing in one voice
the moonlight serenade
I didn’t know if I should scream, pinch my skin to get a grip
or just call up the fire brigade
I thought I was alone at first, but as my eyes wondered around
I saw him sitting on his feet in a weird
lotus pose; naked on the ground,
holding two glasses in one hand, ready to fill them straight up
with something red inside a cup.
His eyes were icy blue and cold, inviting though and very bright,
starring steadily into mine
Got up and headed up to him, with lips all blushed and dancing hips
And as I approached he leaned right back, smiled and offered me a place
I felt like I was hypnotized; couldn’t speak but nodded back with grace
He gave me a glass of wine, a ruby red French Bordeaux
asking my views on the dasein
Shocked as I was to hear myself elaborate on perfect French,
I changed the subject right away
asking him for Wittgenstein
We talked in Greek, German and French for hours and hours long
laughing and having a good time, completely innocent for the crime
The morning found us drinking beers, in Absenta bar in Barcelone
trying to hide from our peers; and from the guilts that were long gone
As we were sitting outside there was no fire escape
no way out from this ordeal that felt so fucking hot and great
We kissed and kissed and kissed right back
and never really ever stopped (even if we leaved so far apart)
we kissed until our lips were chopped

I never wanted to wake up; I longed for Adams’s arms and lust
But dreams don’t last — No dreams don’t last
more than a night

The day dawns, the garden’s gone, and Adam’s nowhere to be found
He ate the apple and left my town
in the morning light


Ugly pug Jo

The dog of Mr Hulin is black as deep dark oceans
Small and ugly like dead pigeons on a winter’s day.
Its saliva droops along the side of a comic mouth
It barks like a coughing baby, has no tail to show its joy.
If it ever had.
Tail or joy
Mr Hulin calls it Jo
Everyday he takes it out twice. Once early in the morning
And one late at night.
I hear them as they come down the stairs; their feet tapping on the old wooden stairs,
His step heavy and slow, its step vague and limp.
I watch them from the window
As they cross the street
Improbable duo of old lonely males
In this city built for youngsters
They survive out of stubbornness and persistence
Every day same route
Routine and safety and life
Taken aback by rheumatism and invisible tails.

*Anna Niarakis is a chemist with postgraduate studies (Msc, PhD) in Biochemistry and postdoctoral studies in Computational Systems Biology. She is an Associate Professor in the Department of Biology at the University of Evry Val d’Essonne. In 2009 she was awarded by the Committee for Equality of the Prefecture of Achaia, Greece, for the writing of a Theatrical Play on the subject of the equality between men and women reacting to sex discrimination and eliminating stereotypes. Her poems, texts and translations have been published in anthologies as well as in print and electronic magazines in Greek and other languages. Her latest volume of poetry is Sunrise Over Nothing: snapshots of poetry (Plan B Press, 2018) She directs the online magazine The Window, a magazine for poetry and other sins, and her personal website, Antipoetry.


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