Post mortem of a young mother

What became of her, ten thousand meters deep in my memory?
            What happened to the cursed car,            the shattered glass?
What became of my grandmother stunned in the dream beyond the dream?

Touch the skeleton of the rain, she says.
            A mushroom in the sky            hides those who belonged to us.

But nobody belongs to you. You are of another species
(a one-year-old orangutan discarded by September
            in a freshly plowed field).

You broke the windows from friction,
            and my heart went yellow like a smoker’s teeth.

                                                But don’t look for me underground,

or in your father’s symbol.                        If you knead the flesh in the shower
you won’t find any clues, but let me hear the throbbing of that wrecked car
            in my ears again, like a storm in the room.
                        You do not remember.

Those were the perfectly common times,
when                        love is given to a body
            that will never be the same again.

Two minds forged before the coffin chews the names,
            and young bones
in which an identical sap moves along.

Similarly, on that day            the world was an heir: the transfer of deaf goods
                        in your ears
            was blending old rumors.
The air register was printing a receipt of blood
                                    as my heart was getting too fat.

You have nothing to cry about.            Decipher only my falling into this abyss.
            My talking underwater while the algae stirs your headache.

And in the bottom: the fishes of memory that do not bite.
            Your hair goes all the way here – old pointed shafts that used
to point to your father’s throat

now they wake up in you. Hair crammed into the last edge of memory.
Hair on the freshly plowed field and all over.

This, the hair on your shoulders.

Alessandro Vitali was born and is resident in Macerata. He has a degree in Anthropology and Social Research from the University of Siena. Previously, he studied Modern Literature at the University of Macerata. Currently, he writes poems, dramaturgies and short stories. He has also participated in some collective painting exhibitions in Rome and Palermo. He works as a teacher in Italy.

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