Posts Tagged With: calm


I had been asked a few times to dance with young boys wearing an unnatural, stiff air of boldness. Sometimes my arms hair raised with repulsion. It was as if I were a duckling swimming in dirt, fearing to step over the others’ shoe. Large feet and hair that did not obey to combs. Inside my round body I felt even more rounder, emotions were drawing entangled curves and vine spirals. I was asking how many steps I have to take on the right or on the left, counting them while music flowed around me like a train speeding in a flag station. Boys seemed to be carved in wood and there wasn’t a fairy queen to give them life to be little adventurers. It was better in childhood when I was climbing the wild morello tree in my garden, dreaming that every branch was a room in my house. I would have liked boys to be like that cherry, to find place for my bedroom or my kitchen filled with dolls.
You don’t know how to move, you’re like wood, someone said to me when we tried to dance tango. All girls have dancing in their blood he said, and I didn’t agree. I wasn’t all girls.
I preferred to listen to piano sonatas on a stormy day, my heartbeats were equal and calm. I couldn’t understand why for others everything was so tormented, how they could dance and swirl while skies were so clear and stars shone so brightly.
On my living room carpet yellow roses are blooming.  The curtains are sprinkled with poppies and cornflowers, that’s what I feel sometimes. It is here where I sleep because I remember more easily how I was drowning myself in fresh cut grass in the fields, under open skies. It is a larger place here. When I was little I saw bottles transformed in puppies or kittens wearing knitted cloth, moustache and little ears. I wouldn’t like to have one of those and I don’t need fish swimming in a small aquarium.
Sometimes I build with needle and threads a lonely house near a lake with swans. I pour water periodically on my apartment plants. The green ones remain, those with flowers wither. I like to chop in tiny pieces parsley and garlic. I don’t cook pastry or sweets, I don’t use cinnamon or bottled essences. I never wear perfumes. Sometimes I open an old drawer where I hid and tightly corked up a perfume from my youth, realizing that it becomes more and more cloudy as time goes by.
How wonderful it is to watch seagulls flying upon my window! I can’t remember when they came in our town, far from sea. It is like a slow song, like a white waltz. I stop the music and sometimes verify if the front door is locked. The scent of a story book with brown stains spreads under my bed lamp. The ugly duckling falls asleep in the little match girl’s leap.

Categories: My Poems in 2010 | Tags: , , , | 2 Comments


„All art is a revolt against man’s fate”

(André Malraux)

In a military wardrobe
a peaceful blue tapestry was hanging
facing the Commander in Chief’s portrait.
Seashore, ripples, raindrops, white clouds.
Two men sat there talking
about girls, cars, dogs and food.
Will there be a war again?
Today I’m just dreaming my life away
sitting for a while in the waiting room,
fighting, forgetting, forgiving, forsaking


The Suitcase

I went to sea with an iron suitcase
locked with a cipher on the last day ashore
I kept in it an apple a newspaper a pretzel
it was so heavy on my left shoulder
I was carrying a leather bag in my right hand
stuffed with clothes for twenty years

when waters raised over portholes
I opened the heavy suitcase nibbling my pretzel
making small ships from newspaper pages
I was wearing a white dress from my youth
admiring the brightly shining red apple
but they repaired our vessel

when the second accident occurred
I tore to pieces the whole newspaper
reading it leaf after leaf
I had grey hair wearing a dark black dress

in the end only the apple was left there
from time to time I checked its color still fresh
feeling a deep sting in my left shoulder
I couldn’t bear anymore the iron suitcase
dressed now in a pink gown like peach blossoms
I was not hungry I didn’t want to throw away the fruit
my heart opposed to give it away

I placed it again in that suitcase
calling a child from the deck
asking him to lock it without telling me the cipher
then I threw it in the depths

at night a stifled fire was burning
under my eyelids and my temples
I looked once more at the stars
falling asleep much easier than before



Chamber Orchestra

Clear sky in the afternoon
pressing over the attic’s gaze…
My steps gliding on a balustrade
edging channels in a Venice of feelings.
A cello concerto moments
vibrate like a handkerchief falling in dust:
smooth, delicate, crystal sugar on old walls.
My thoughts are assembling tightly in my body,
soles following the road like a stethoscope,
music coming to life
among house vine nerves.

From the main street I was lost
through ogival porches,
the keys were hidden in leaves whispers
unveiling velvet hours, rose shadows,
people sculpting melodious pathways
in their carefully polished chairs.

Most of all these
October light hit softly
deep in my eyes.

Categories: My Poems in 2010 | Tags: , , , , , | Leave a comment

Wind Whispers

there’s a cold print inside me
a blunt ridge on a record
dust whirls around
rust grains flow in my blood
leaving the old iron works
unsold by their collectors

this song can be hardly heard
swept away by morning winds
when I wake up without wishes
feeling a taste of frozen lemon
sliced at once…
on the knife’s blade a deep stain remains

many things can’t be purchased
forgotten or interchanged
but they are aging
wasp nests gather between blinds
broken lines meet on the walls
colors blend becoming gray
neutral and indifferent


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