The Passion of Tristan


Can you imagine if I dig
inside the trunk of a tree
from the roots up, and then
surf the length and breadth
as a bright and drunken
flying squirrel?

It would be in all similar
to that melted ice summer
when we were companions
for each other
like abandoned puppies
the same eyes, the same fear,
the same search of some ending.

But with our arms entwined,
in our mutual listening, we were
two hearts besieged, humiliated,

our skins became a tougher bark,
and suddenly our union was forever.

Maybe that’s why I would like the hollow shaft
And perhaps that is why I’d take to flight
so to claw you like the falcon with the hare
and make that hollow trunk
the vessel of my summer ghosts
or the coffin for our love.

Danilo Breschi
Poet of the Month April 2016

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Read more about Danilo Breschi


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