The City
—after
C.P.Cavafy
You tell me: I’m going to another
country,
another city, another body.
Perhaps my heart will stay uncertain,
and I will destroy my history but I am leaving.
Even if on every street, I find the ruins of our bodies,
I’ll roam like a restless soul anyway.
I tell you: You won’t find a new
country,
new city, new body. You’ll return to roam
the same ruins, same streets, same quartiere,
return to complain in the same room
of the same house, return to the memory of our intertwined bodies.
You will always end up in Roma: I will always remain in you.
And maybe late, you’ll see, what you destroyed
is worth more than all the worlds you wasted your time in.
Intermezzo
You
can’t trespass
an open wound
the
smell of September
on the breast of a lover
you
desired
but can’t remember,
the
lines by Pasolini
that couldn’t
carry
the pleasures
of a perfect nation,
so
stay in between.
After all,
faithfulness
is a long hesitation.
Salacia
I
pull you out of the sea,
drag you across the risky waters,
where the distances are longer,
where pain has laws.
On your face a wave as long as a tomb,
behind you, the cities you left,
all moved, like winded and un-winded
hearts. I look for your bruises,
knowing some damages are irreparable.
I listen: No one dies alone in the sea.
I wonder how it’s possible,
decades later, across continents,
not to find all the parts of you I need.
I take you back to the waters,
take you back to the waves,
to the blue we break and unbreak.
We enter. We get lost. And salt, salt, salt
holds the sea in us.
another city, another body.
Perhaps my heart will stay uncertain,
and I will destroy my history but I am leaving.
Even if on every street, I find the ruins of our bodies,
I’ll roam like a restless soul anyway.
new city, new body. You’ll return to roam
the same ruins, same streets, same quartiere,
of the same house, return to the memory of our intertwined bodies.
You will always end up in Roma: I will always remain in you.
And maybe late, you’ll see, what you destroyed
is worth more than all the worlds you wasted your time in.
an open wound
on the breast of a lover
but can’t remember,
that couldn’t
of a perfect nation,
After all,
is a long hesitation.
drag you across the risky waters,
where the distances are longer,
where pain has laws.
On your face a wave as long as a tomb,
behind you, the cities you left,
all moved, like winded and un-winded
hearts. I look for your bruises,
knowing some damages are irreparable.
I listen: No one dies alone in the sea.
I wonder how it’s possible,
decades later, across continents,
not to find all the parts of you I need.
I take you back to the waters,
take you back to the waves,
to the blue we break and unbreak.
We enter. We get lost. And salt, salt, salt
holds the sea in us.
(from the
forthcoming book “Roma Roam”)
