TORSO – Poem

TORSO  – by Alessia D’Artino

The falling ruin of just one chord

hangs, but not to hurt, on its iron weight;

later on, while opening your book

of “Permanent Options and Lamentations”, you would

learn more of how to chew mercury’s Pearls.

But you’ve only heard about it once

…haven’t you?

Sticks of wood imprint their greedy shades,

hanging from the head of secular trees

and covering angles of ground

all over; hanging

above those green fields outside

you always see

…don’t you?

The falling ruin of just a chain

slides down as a big thorny bracelet

from the neck; later on,

you’d cut the chest  from its left side,

and you’d go to the back.

Suffocated apprentice- whipping metal tails on her breast.

Tight as a spit, puked as a lip

of rust

      on a zip.

The burnt torso is in half of its portion

only because stings of flying blades

came along imitating the assault of a storm

of insects.

Today, they have it still.

Do they?

(razors are cutting the rain drop by drop since this early morning

in our National day of Being into Others).

 

 

Photo by Magda Bondos.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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