Plague

Plague

Still,

I wonder how Cyprus looks.

I wonder about the warped olive trees,

That ghastly priest that roams the empty street,

That grassy field with its rustic shed,

I wonder, often, about you.

I wonder if you know how I decorated

Our room, memories of chewing gum,

Clinging to the walls in a foreign spread,

I wonder if it's cold to touch.

I wonder if I ever escaped you.

Similarly, if a man is ever perfected

In his death,

I wonder if that even matters, after all

I wonder if we both died that day.