In the tiny encyclopedia
of pronouns, you is a too reckless I.
If I say you, it is to pray to myself
– a somewhat clumsy way to pronounce
a whole beyond the body. If my blasphemy
resounds like a caiman
hungry for the sky and blue things,
know – God – that I am walking
on the burning embers of a rotten desire.
If a poem is so softly approached to you,
it is to prevent the perpetual injury of missing
you – you: anyone or, rather,
I apostrophized and hidden, like an endless
joint between your copper lips.
You are this: I who proceed towards you,
in the idiosyncrasy of open space.
Thus, one goes among the bones of the city,
at a slow pace; one goes aged
through forests of offices and elevators.
like collarbones. As many kinds of weather as
the open mouths on earth. Umbrellas
squeezed right inside
the deaf cone of the eyes.
Someone walking with a stranger offspring
lingers like a little evening
locked up in a body.
seeking my way home, forgotten
and unnamed – does that mean
I’m close to touching you?
I have arrived, and I have but a bunch of useless keys
if you don’t live
beyond this door.
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.