Wednesday, December 08, 2004

Milena


- Red table cloth -

The phone rings:
green screen;
Caller Unknown.

"Her mother" - limbs tingle
Her mother - I walk.

Her voice,
my ears,

echoes of
self-deception.

Brown leather:
denial.

My voice:
resonance --

"How is she?"

Hands grasp deer horns on varnished shelves --

"The pain was
Inhuman".

Starched tongue,
forced silence:

Inhuman.

Mind dims:
refusal.

Dark locks, bright eyes:

All faded.

frag ment ed a ware ness...
No more.

No...

Head twirling --
I sink
White void --
I wish...

Warm salt,
sheer sorrow,
circular clarity --

Gone.

- Lunchtime -


Dedicated to my ex-course mate and friend Milena C. - who died with leukemia at the age of 22 on July 19, 2002.

Copyright © 2004 Anna Piutti

6 comments:

Cap Slog said...

Thank you, and I'm sorry for your loss.

A reminder of how unfair it is that the world will go on even though hardly noticing a precious soul has gone.

Anna Piutti said...

Thank you, Clap, for stopping by and taking the time to read my poems. I appreciate that, and I agree with what you said.
Take care.

P.D. Gourlais said...

Wow! I am reading this poem again. After engaging with it a few times, I find that when you write,

"Hands grasp deer horns on varnished shelves -- / "The pain was/
Inhuman"."

At this turn in the poem, the action of touching something grounds me in reality. It's almost as if I step out of shock and denial into realizing the full impact of the effect the death has on the narrator.

And for having gone through grief more than a few times, I find it to be very real and believable.

I am also moved by the way you described her eyes. You captured the very essence of how powerful it is to acknowledge the light has gone. It has gone somewhere but to where? Where is the electric pulse? It's a phenomenon that it shines through the eyes until the very end.

"Dark locks, bright eyes: /
All faded."

Grande opera! :)

I anticipate your proposed revision.

Grazie,
P.D.G.

Anna Piutti said...

Thank you for reading this again, and for taking time to comment on it. You're too kind.

I am in no place to review this poem yet.
I wonder if the fragmentary structure I've given it shouldn't remain that way, confusing as it may seem. I'm not sure, really. All I know is that it reflects the way I felt when I learned the sad news.

Once again, grazie.

P.D. Gourlais said...

Trovo che la forma della poesia è perfetta. Piaccio la struttura frammentaria. Si, è che confonde TUTTAVIA penso che tuo stile funzione
come una persona chi si lamenta. C'è un elemento distorto e delirante. L'amo! :)

Tua,
A.P.

Anna Piutti said...

Grazie ancora!