nonna By Erika Spadavecchia


there, lassù
your orthogonal confessional, a pharmacy 7 storeys high
ti intravedo in the margin of your mornings
discarnate, immovable in the Cimmerian window
watering your gerani, gladioli. your fingers fulgurated
vibrating, fondling the ringlets of light: sub-errant guardo, non guardo

above your nest yes, the sky
buries its head vergognoso yes, ungracious
passeri averting both eyes, yes, at your
importunate, murmured canzonette. the faint
concert you sing, just before your perennial
babelic request: lo stoa aspettann, lo sto aspettan.
the pious infanticide

aspetti, aspetti. aspetti cristo, aspetto lui, aspetti as the unmendable thought unstitches
its threads on your skin–like sanguine branches denuded, bent to recline on your prostrate limbs che paiono di neve

guardo, how the corrupted azure pries, contrite
into your days in the nubècola. hears your encrusted
heresies at night, the static silence of your
phone. the inexistent admonitions of sound, one of the
calls you negotiate with christ, from the seed
who has forsaken you, without a word

mentre imbrunisce di già, il ricordo
where you mirror yourself, sola

By Erika Spadavecchia


She is currently based in Rome, where she teaches, writes and lives with her fish. She recently obtained an MPhil in Criticism and Culture from the University of Cambridge.

Leave a Reply