A poem by Mariacarmela Ribecco




The images run in a drawing,
they are the hidden happiness of a caged woman,
the rags lost in the warm wind
that graze the remains of a shattered happiness.
The square empties itself of an absent woman
for a conviction, a punishment in the body.
Delara, the illusion is emptied by time,
burnt by constant biting madness.
The head is inclined on a white paper.
“I hope that colours would bring me back to life”.
At dawn everything is still, the telephone rings
“They are going to hang me now,
please help me, tell them to not do it!”
while the gallows puts an end to forgiveness
and the face doesn’t show any hopes.
The last breath gets lost
… it is evil that watches among the shadows.
A hand caresses the skin still warm
… it is a blackcap’s desperation.
The feet stir into the wind, suspended
… without touching the ground anymore
… without touching life anymore.

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