Histofruitsemacea
and the taste of unknown fruits
the rough-skinned oblong bud
the smooth texture of the pyramidal shell?
now without a palate like a dead Pallas
or like all dead things
who did not absorb the taste of distant fruits
for example the apples that bloomed on Sirius
and its unthinkable taste of universe
as far away as the gidean persimmon in algeria
like gauguin's mango on papeete or moorea
your mother insisted so much on it
the health contained in these items, you know?
and now there's blueberry season
romanesque pomegranates
I remember ceausescu died in 89
as you get older you remove stickers from your album
first fold it carefully and put it in another pile
they become dusty
they grow ears and then they get greasy
you throw this little pile in a corner
in the end put it out
and the monte mor diminishes more
one point for whoever bites the pear
from the still life painting of cézanne
another point in sacrificing a lily in the garden
to plant the vine in its place
always bacco - evoé bacco
when I had no idea about anything
child i looked at the christmas tree
balancing on Crocodile brand kerosene can
beside the coffin with my little dead brother
back then if you walked a few kilometers
throwing stones at sparrows
arrived at the curve of the planet
there was the clear lake of walden canoe on the shore
an ecstasy for a dreamy boy
the araucaria lost its boccia of pine nuts
and they're brown in the grass by the lake
would then be roasted over an old man's fire
his face lit by the embers
is crossed out with radiotherapy blue lines
when it gets dark there's a mess of fireflies
squeaks peeps grunts woe and the old moon looks friendly
and you see in it that crater, the eastern one
hour of fresh pears
sour bergamots
strawberries rubies
time to confess:
I wanted to go down in the well
reach the icy water
inside I would look at the sky and ask
close the lid
please close the lid!
I finally feel sheltered
I'm finally home
Copyright © Marco Chies | Year Posted 2022
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