Two Poems


Anna Niarakis





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.