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