If there’s a gap between us, mourned
by ourselves, from what we were,
tell me your initials engraved with an open heart
the extraction of evil, because, closing it,
wind and dull sky tears came,
a sky dripped in defiance of the good, forgotten.
It is strange to find you, my spring, turned into crumbs
since I caught you, true, in the month of Annunciation
‘cause the crumbs become bread, and do not vanish.
You know, for every run we are all novices
unconscious and blessed with eternal night
only we feel the curtain falls already, hard.
And how this night circles and presses all of us
day after day it makes tiny and tiny
our breath, words, hands outstretched, to fall.
The abc of this love is necessary,
since you transcribe it only as dictation
between the lines of the past, between the movements
with which I pursue our idea, a dying flame.
One step to the side, I asked you; one more.
Poet of the Month April 2016
Read more work from Danilo Breschi