Poem in which my son wants to hear a story

I speak to him in an old language, musty and inveterate, with a faint whiff of salty cheese and home-made bread. Here, dragons have only four letters, cars are complicated machinery and polenta is made up of eMs. Here, to be is thinner than a spider’s thread. [Read More]
Tags: poetry

Hairdresser

His belly kept rubbing against the back rest of the chair testifying to the fact that he, indeed, put on some weight. His boyfriend was not joking when he said that. The kid in the chair kept texting his girlfriend but that did not seem to bother him as long... [Read More]

Together We Blossom

She said time is about to come. She said we had to act. It’s no use going against it… the Party… We are old. Too old already. So old, we’re made of love. We should go as we always hoped we will, doting the earth, dreaming of clouds. Not up... [Read More]
Tags: poetry blossom