Barbara Strignano




The Silent

Furious debris-
cry of shoulders.

Blood weeps
Sand & metal.

Mourning-heated air taunts
Did you leave the world last night?

Refused water and sleep.
Half-instances like silk
presume you are together.

Someone’s child becomes the man,
a soul rises,
Bodies fling to moon-glass.
Still like a Carmelite you do not speak.







e-mail the poet at barbara_strignano@yahoo.com
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