Poetic War

By Christos Tsagkaris

King Demetrius had been fighting his enemies for years, even though all his hope was disproved.

I saw him the night before the last battle traipsing between hope and hopelessness, walking up and down his tent. No one else was in there except for an awkward man, who was erasing and writing lyrics.

“Who are you?” murmured the king.

“Cavafis, sir. Just a poet, at your service.”

“A poet cannot help me! This is not the country I fought for. It’s the country of Heraklides and Valas!” sighed the king and the poet noted down the final phrase of his poem.