Enigma, the electric blue sizzling If words try to stone you dead And shrilling voices throw back to you the sky: See if she cares you look sharp Now that she’s the moon - You never go wrong with blue, anyway: A wailing toddler on the verge of choking While parents sing him a lullaby, Jobless young men, gazes lost in space, Jealous fathers fear for girls having fun: Beaches, white sand, clear blue water - Sometimes they happen to forget They conjured when young the mercy of wolves - And who are you, how dare you say “Forbidden fruit, don’t touch” - Witches, mothers, cities? Other stares must hit down your rattling nights, Stop this fuss, cut it out, For other souls, not yours, the sky will root - Wait, he’s just sneaking the blue in, That fake cheap kindness When you ask for help and look so needy - Yes, tell him he’s holy and perfect, C’mon, tell him you’re going for death - If death isn’t in make do with coffee - Of course with due blessing of mothers and their ilk.
Hey you dirty man hunter, my headache, See how she looks pale? Big fight with the clouds, right? Ah, moon, moon, flowers and peace And witty repartees Can’t get rid of those wombs ready to meet Those little clones, just a matter of time, Soon so soon they’ll spew them out, That’s good! But once we were the lepers, The pilgrims traipsing here and there - No, no, ‘t was not our precinct, ‘t was mid-August Among darkness and Coltrane sax Among the lights on motorways and red-hot silence – Now guess what! A travesty of love? Sorry, love is a rumpled word - Maybe a travesty of desire? That’s right! Look, point is God has got mercy Only on trees, unfair, Aren’t they stronger than us? Oh, I see, he can’t, Only black in stock today, I see, yes, no choice, But my bosom friends are up, Small , so small you might miss them – Let’s grab them, let’s dive Into the wild white foams Where words dream crash and drown, Look at the sunburnt slaves Gazing at the sea in a still daze: Useless deaths, yes, high time.
Relentless blue and just a handful of nights When darkness tells her hey you, don’t stand still, Get a move and run, What? Texts, mails, So many pop-ups on the screen? You can’t? C’mon, stop babbling fibs, Stop nightmares and listen, my second skin Is a sun who fathers desertion, As a child I was friends with hidden sparks, Fireplaces and wisteria arbors, With icy water and the stone of wells, I even shared my food with stray cats - What’s happening now? Clots who keep boasting It’s in my nature, you know, I can’t help killing animals - Meantime, in faraway rooms Where red and blue trinkets Spice up depressed white drawers Granny bestows her wisdom On the charming scribe: Present tense makes poems vibrate But nothing better than past tense To convey a wistful detachment: Aren’t they blissfully unaware? Don’t waste a single drop of water Some vociferously demand, Only they merrily drop the blood of animals - So, why you don’t KO them all? Oh, good ol’ free will and all that jazz - I see, well, at least have a go, give nice dreams To the castaways crawling in the sand - Will those two show up? Life too busy with mirrors and rouge, Nausicaa with gossips and songs - They both many miles and castaways far - How can I explain my stuff to you, light? Of course, my share of fraught smiles And hawks in my pasture apart.
Bio: Gabriella Garofalo Born in Italy some decades ago, Gabriella Garofalo fell in love with the English language at six, started writing poems (in Italian) at six and is the author of “Lo sguardo di Orfeo”; “L’inverno di vetro”; “Di altre stelle polari”; “Blue branches”.