6 part - 2 cardboards -1 bridge - no sleep – poem

 

Missed you, darling part I 

Le labbra diventavano mollica 
un morso di te, e morivo.
Il corpo non significava più. 

What I don’t tell è il fermare il sangue
per un desiderio what you shouldn’t tell is
“I hear your voice in my head your voice is a body your voice
is flesh si disintegra per diventare ogni superficie.”

 

Missed your darlings part II 

You. You, you. 
Slipping in between.
Memory steps. 

What you don’t tell and you shouldn’t tell
you end up telling when fingers linger,
ti penso bag-nata 
in ogni parola. 

 

Kill me, darling part III 

Il volto nel ponte, le mani nei seni le dita 
nelle porte, le dita
che si rompono ogni mattina. 

 

Have you seen the moon, darling? part IV 

La mattina le dita 
entrano 
si spezzano 
si ricordano 
della parte morta del corpo, la 
mattina fingers ripping skin off, peeling lips,
only words are left of you – what 
does meaning do to our body?
What happens to the body 
when it is told?

 

Line between blues, darling part V 

When you write a poem you are 
witchword, witchworth. 

When 
you are the poem 
what you say is 
I want to be translated by you
I want to be translated in you. 

 

Guard the guardians, darling part VI 

Once the touch is in the poem
you can say it is gone you can say was it
ever there. Incastonato il tocco, il petto è
marmo. Breasts will be hidden in the (treasure) chest,
dalla gola sotto al ponte sentirete ripetere
was it ever there
was it ever there
was it was it 
ever 
lì.