Born in Italy some decades ago, Gabriella Garofalo fell in love with the English language at six, started writing poems (in Italian) at six, and is the author of Lo sguardo di Orfeo, L’inverno di vetro, Di altre stelle polari, Casa di erba, Blue Branches, and A Blue Soul.
A Blue Conundrum
To M. W.
Adrenaline high up the sky, you shocked-
Do not bend over me, night,
No need to, you’ve got lovers, right?
Fear, fear always digging her graves, souls,
Cold, and a silence you misplaced so long ago-
Just remove the sounds words echoed
When stalked by water,
Or fighting like no tomorrow with light-
And you, my cold, do not bite me tonight,
No need to, as souls, and a tousled desire
Don’t mind green, or silence-
As soon as they leave give birth
To life, and God, your last resource,
Give the sky his own fire, but, my soul,
Don’t set yourself on fire, not your fault
If days start whirling ‘round you,
Scalds, men, rejections, of no importance at all,
As you chose from the start colours
And plain books, certainly not love, nor limbs,
You just kept slicing shreds from renegade skies,
Dissenters, the lunatic fringe -
That’s why skies can’t grab you on the fly,
Nor can Sahara want you as a prophet-
Just an albedo of words
Breaking through stones, and boulders-
Dunno if she feels like a mother, but you inside
A place where they’re so keen
To come and meet you,
Questions, doubts, slip-ups
In a brand new creation:
A heavenly vault, foliage, that pearly white
Set to strike back at your soul.
© 2022 Gabriella Garafolo
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