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sad death poem

mescolisi
veda, da questa falsificazione di lui
mille anni silenziosi fa
dolce e forte
parla non bene
movimento del vostro corpo è come musica
pensate, il mio ragazzo, quando metto i miei bracci intorno voi
fra il fumo e nebbia di un pomeriggio di dicembre
agito i miei capelli nel vento della mattina
come lui di chi spirito nella fiammata del mezzogiorno
il bambino che ha gettato via il foglio dopo il foglio

 



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