Sunday, May 1, 2016

Michela Zanarella

Tragically Red

Hooked on a silence 
in the crag of a love
tragically red 
I give in and conform
to the shapes of sorrow. 
Violated senses,
torn, invaded, crucified cells 
shout in an infinite false blossom.
In the veins, bitterness 
that has the blood and smell
of chained tears. 
Freed the heart
in the absence of light, 
I seal the marks of a blaze
in the flesh, 
in the vanished semblance
of time, 
docile as death
which proves itself 
smooth among the rusty weakness
of the night.

--tr. Leanne Hoppe

 Chain make up 1

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