that to feel out the dead you have to melt
in the breeze that unglues body and mind -
just as the threshold of sleep is crossed and day breaks
the familiar gestures the bodies of the lost return
renewed as if born this very day reserved for visitors
i focus on his chest's smooth skin
its amber color that will linger a few hours more lingering
ever since his gaze began to wander without end since i first entered his circle
now, with everything razed to the ground,
in rare moments of wind
we laugh in mid-air, read each other's lips
until we go to pieces against the eaves of a house
and he yells: "it's all burned out inside!"
/ mario, august 15, 1978 by antonio porta
