My Aunt Hermione
The story of my aunt Hermione has always bothered me,
lost, according to my father, for a year in Yugoslavia.
Missing, according to my uncle, on the ship
bringing her from Smyrna by the Sea of No One.
Survivors confuse the paths of the dead
with their own, they no longer know what dream,
what memory is from whom.
Was she lost in a time without calendars,
a sea without waves and a ship without walls?
Didn’t she know that while she was alive,
however far she went into the Nameless Country,
she’d always return to the refugee ship
which is the present, which is this planet?
They found her one day, this is for sure,
but if she found herself, nobody’s telling:
one day she disappeared
without leaving any other anecdotes.