Three Micropoems from Dimenticatoio
The Mothers
Far from being goddesses or sibyls:
the poor mothers
suffering from migraines
crushed by the heart’s servitude.
Dear Life
Dear life,
you chose colourless places,
anonymous hours,
the tritest occasions.
You chose the wrong companions.
Ouch
It takes genius to make a language,
to draw nails out with your teeth.
1978
Translations from the Italian
By Jamie McKendrick