Sofia Bucci: 12/dodici

I am the earth./That doesn’t move./I am the earth./A fleshy stone./I inflict myself the decoration of this empty room./There’s dust in every corner./And crumpled bedsheets./The plugs come off the walls./The cracks on the lintels./The last ripped verses.

Good luck, he said to me./Good luck, he smiled at me with his teeth of pearl.

The room is apparently quiet/Like the one that protected you/Before your brother encouraged you to learn flying/For the room is going to vanish/You didn’t want to, though/And the room vanished/And you died.

This is the first wind./The bump on destiny’s door./There’s nothing more that I can do,/I must switch off decidedly./I should shut down now./Here./I shut down.

FAREWELL./To you./Farewell.

The night dies old, leaving a newborn day in my arms./A mint-eyed idol.

www.sofiabucci.com

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