The arch

The arch is broken

ahead of its time

Blank fullfillments starve again

against the low profile

of my shadowy crust

Prickles go further stinging

the delicate part of my jowl

so that I feel untied and free

so that the pain collapses

and start a new arrow wheeling

in the thick air of a rainy spring

It’s a silly gabble I hear then

birds come along

and my stillness slackens

inside

 

Federica Galetto

 

Art by  Simona Fedele -Soldatino di Piombo-, mixed media on old Reader’s Digest, 130×190 cm.

http://www.simonafedele.com/

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Un pensiero su “The arch”

  1. Rainy rainfall suggests, with its rembered wobble,
    that all we read may very well be in jest.
    Still, as the day becomes night and I meet
    the traces of the light you so fiercely seeked,
    I’ll leave a trace, carved through wonder and delight,
    myself; ‘till the conscious curtains drop, and topple.

    (Bella poesia; delicata)

    Mi piace

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