Seeing beyond the open sea, you procrastinate
a long unstable longitude passes by a crowded line
colored mass bumps into
and remembers that it has forgiven that you have forgiven them
and have lost the fear
of getting off here where space falls
at a height that reaches the tops of trees and hair
image of the world that pictures the wind
slipping thoughts from one side to the other turns doors explodes with life:
it’s a day like any other.
Blue storm is a day like any other
a night and its other shadow at night goes out for air
loses quarters
extinguishes borders
in a while, morning opens its eyes and habits
while awake you proceed to
where no meeting occurs where there is no freeing up no recognizing
one another no breathing on each other
It no longer resembled her
her latest life laden with endless deserts
traps, limbs and rocky bites
alone here, uninhabited
it had been mercy
but then it turned into day and it changed, it dissolved
and became living water and mother
a child wave inside her daughter
beckoning new forms like a blessing
of rain and beats
at times concave then convex and luminous
reflection, life just given.
Every noise becomes alien
twirling in the darkness of the eyes
– ah Boreas, Boreas –
it wakes the bedside stand and the drawers
lifts the baskets and the war pages
one foot after the other like a polite devil
the day takes shape
recreating a new perimeter of chaos
– ah Boreas, Boreas –
At night
the world has a salty order,
sea and tears together
next to each other
a brackish land where to sleep
in a flight
to glide
divine destiny, opera and pop tune
a mechanism to evoke an old song.
Hey, Honey Grace, let yourself bloom in the winds of voices
sirens bells swinging on slender balconies
of entwined lands fans blowing in the summer
In boreal hibernations that come and go and cross
admiring you as you sit bare-faced and feet
touching the grass spreading your senses wide open like a peacock tail
incarnating into a distant lair,
a stirring answer and a thousand names beckon
to find centuries and palaces for you
fields of noisy clouds and iron bridges
volcanoes of bubbling seas and crossings of thorns
bordering the air of your blossoming eyes.
Every night
they said the end of the world was coming
the heat threw open the windows
cicadas the voices and the doors
the trains caught the fire of summer
the track of pack commuters
the red of the walking poppies
and the fan blades dropped your shoulders
and hollowed you out
like your mother’s arms
At the last song the siren
turns off the day
and fiery it moves
flowing with a very secret life
the black sternum of a galaxy
makes its way
between ribs of thorns
they all are swearing
that they have never been lost
either through bad luck
nor due to a broken satellite phone
besieged by death
every day we fall,
in a darkness of words and strokes
on the route of going
of shifting the pain
cuts, intermittence, times
of day that will be night
where sometimes nothing else exists
Simonetta Sambiase, pen name Met Sambiase, has an Art degree but has been writing poetry for many years. She lives and teaches in Reggio Emilia (northern Italy) and as the president of the cultural association Exosphere has launched many community projects including the exhibit “Cose salve” after the 2013 earthquake in Modena. With the cultural association, she has put together three poetry anthologies. She contributes regularly to many literary journals as well as print anthologies and has won many awards. Among her previously published collections Capo Mundi (2014) e L’ingombro (2016). She blogs at https://golemfemmina.wordpress.com/tag/met-sambiase/
