Mean days
everyone trading in speed.
Around us
the sun ripens the flesh of
the rocks to strange scents,
the columns of light sail unheard
between the flanks of the hills.
The garment
no longer sits on our shoulders
we have shrivelled our gestures
bartered our time
to feed the steel toys.
From: http://purl.library.usyd.edu.au/setis/westerly/pdfs/205723
Date: 1977
By: Antigone Kefala (1935- )