Poe-m-try

005

(foto di Claudia Discacciati)

he likes the golden I carry

I thought he visited us often

.

he comes regularly

at my eyelids doors

.

he sits on blonde

eyelashes and whispers

showing me stories

to teach me

the curvy way of love

 .

he loves on my trembling

lips budding up and 
flies low

on the silk of my skin

he sees me when I don’t

 .

he speaks to me when

I don’t hear but

his visits stay with me

 .

one day I may tell

(Anna Mosca)