Khios

Come Easter’s bells
And rockets wound tight
All the hammering tools
Of the bronze island night

Parish aim at parish
Draw a bitter tableau
With keen darts arcing
From Apollo’s long bow

Careering off balconies
And blue roofs lit white
The Aegean burning
Its belfries alight

Canons beat the dark
The ancient missiles, replaced
As a worshipping mass
Speed the rockets’ race

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