Alison buys shoes. The young men,
most alone, blow kisses
as she ascends. By torchlight from the car
we form a chain, pass
bin bags rapidly, try to save
size 39, 42,
from rain and children beating on the glass.
Alison issues: single line, up to age twenty-four
or nothing. Chaos, of course.
Dureid is first to bend his knee, grab
Alison by the hand. She screams.
We do not know the words that pass, only
that she slams the door, severs in the hinge
a thumb. Blood, stains.
Token of undying love, his stump
pressed against the wall, as we’re
escorted out in torchlight, one by one.
Souda, Chios, August 2016