incest
I
remember mother
when i asked you for
sorriso bacino e carezza
after i had done something wrong
and your face was turned away from me_
i was then frightened
the future was withdrawn from me
without your sight to point for signs
and i had nowhere to place my step_
but you always turned to me
at the sound of my imploring
to soothe me in my anxieties
and dispel them away from me_
then i knew where i could still walk
with that magic charm pinned on me
that could pierce your light from the clouds
till in my pace i would have again lost
your astral body in the grovelled dust.
that might have been how a child
understood love must be:
as the two extremities of a string
stretching apart from each other
trembling for the snap that might come
if not stopping to let the other extremity
recover the intensity of the stretch_
then the adult has to measure itself
with how the child taught love to be
seeking for the glittering future
that in the smile of a mother's love
opened the wings of its gestures
to the breezes of silent certainties_
but the mother is not to be found
where the child measures its manhood
and the foreplay that it seeks compassion with
has not the delivery it knew it by when
the adult has lost in its knowledge
the kindness that makes for the mother
and with no perch to be sustained by
it seeks to recover the old child wisdom_
II
remember Gaia that night on the mountains
how i cried in your bosom to be delivered
by the screams that the trees bent their branches to?
and the white abstraction of anonymous caring
that is the power beyond the face of objects
overflowed on all my senses with the loss of grip
and compass to retrace the thread of your love.
i prayed to be returned to your womb
to find in the ground the bridal veil
that would cover me with the blessing of your stars_
was it the dream of a fetal position
where the adult nurses the child
and the mother is surrounding it all
with the strength that holds the petals
in bent nursing for the anthers and stamens?
but in the morning i lost your imprinting
as i kept track of you in the misleading
embraces of skins without your texture
that carried your scent but not your touch
trapping me in and offering no shelter.
i chase in the checks that could turn red
the dawning sky where the cornucopia of the sun
impregnates the stirring eyes with promises of
shivering robes to entwine a spring of caressing breeze
where the cooling harmonies of a future to come
are not dried in the sand of consumed emotions.
but the mother is not to be found
once the circumstances are made woman
and the childish game budded in adult icons
is muddled with the bleeding of bodily fluids
that stain in the conscious eyes
the innocent desire for communion
where the years of pain swerve
on the folds of a paper boat
that reacts to the whirlpools of its
elemental fears for a piece of land
where solid can emerge the hoped
foreseeing thunder of the lighthouse
dispelling the storms that light sinks
in the abyss where love weaves no weed.
so the adult is caught in the unconscious
swaying and pausing for her fire to kindle it
while the lost adult trembles to fly toward
that charm that was the flecked kiss
where words had the boundless trust
of unconditioned kindness of a flame
streaming the dark for a moth to abandon itself in
the gravitational echoes of the memories tolling like
the child informing its future with the wail of
sorriso bacino e carezza
