by Karen Van Dyck
How heavy is my tiredness? How much does it weigh? Can the umbrella of my shadow puppet keep me up tonight, hold me halfway between the water and the Brooklyn bridge, unfurl my manly skirts flapping in the wind – foustanella, foustanella, can you keep me safe tonight?
for Katerina Anghelaki-Rooke The rhyme of an uneven gait is the measure of her poetry, words that come from here and there whose balance and proportion owe everything to chance, a wobbly joyousness that gasps for air and comes up empty-handed, only to dive down again for more. If certain streets have traffic and others less this is not a condemnation of the whole. The wildly loping hobble of the poet does not mean she won’t arrive in time for dinner.
Karen Van Dyck recently published an anthology of translations Austerity Measures: New Greek Poetry which won the London Hellenic Prize (2016). Her poetry has appeared in Tender, Locomotive and Poiitiki.