BLUE GRASS
By Gabriella Garofalo
God, why have you got so many souls?
In the deepest blue of your existence
No, you think and shout, no –
Even stones fear beasts and kids
Trees stifle branches
A red lamp measures time –
Time, lamps, avenues or deforming mirrors,
What for if life shrieks colours
And you mistake them for light –
Words? Well, they try to help
Against the sky glancing askew,
But bungle it as ever, set themselves on fire,
Why bother if souls tense:
No lavender in the desert
No fresh seeds in the soil
Fleeting moons whenever you think
Voices undying –
Definitely not –
To the harsh taste of death blue set the tone,
Now it clashes with your eyes:
Who chances on the thin side of the veil:
The body or blue?
C’mon, give them those smiling dances,
They’re young, in love, and you, November,
Feel free to choose your monsters,
Feel free to send them letters.
“I face the wind” some cried havoc,
“I act blue” others snapped back –
All nice and good,
But she’s after trees,
Your gaze, fields –
Got a spare mercy, water? –
For summer you’ll atone,
For summer and anger, October’s evil seed –
Meanwhile hands and seas wake up
Close to your breath,
She lights up eyes with demise
As ever so dense, light –
No more delay, Begetter,
Choose a different mud:
Let’s see, fathers keep falling in shreds,
Words keep saying you betrayed
Stalking clouds, windswept sheets –
Even the burning bush spurns you,
Of course, you betrayed your father
And light shows up only in small shreds –
“No” is your answer, no to that blue funk
Wondering why the sky looks so heavy,
Why the choicest fruits grow on that tree,
The last of the row, yes,
The tree of disappearance –
Forget the frescoes for once, please,
Even a white wall is worth a visit –
Too much light?
You mean in your dreams?
Oh, maybe it’s only too many years
And fires.
So don’t ask her to embrace a scream,
She doesn’t forget –
Ever met her when prey to dearth of light? –
The point is life and wind get into your house
Even though you don’t ask them in,
Then there’s anger, who won’t even touch the grass
When meadows look for you, when shadows
Overflow on the outskirts of hunts and days:
Call her back –
If echoes scatter and flowers
Hammering branches with blue disperse,
Only then she gets a life, maybe it works,
Maybe mantises and dragonflies
Steal white sweeps of doubt, who knows,
They lit the air up when she gave
Birth to white abrupt hands –
Wasn’t your gaze so very green, your eyes –
By the way, who’ll teach you shadows
If light dwells elsewhere?
Of course, the missing in your eyes –
No need to fly, no need to dive,
Words dwell close to you,
Not sky nor waves hide them,
They simply can’t or so I’m told –
Got it, Begetter, ok.
About the Author:
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”.
