Monday, September 5, 2011

NIGHT IN THE GARDEN

It’s night at last, all frames almost blurred
and no more hardened by light, no more
pitilessly evident.
I am sitting in the rocking chair in the garden,
all lights switched off, the earth letting
its cooler breath mellow the silence.
Now thoughts can glide and pretend nonchalance,
sliding on the skin of the dark,
I hear cars whooshing on the road behind,
fast swarms, the persistence of the present,
the asphalt so smooth in its familiar grey,
looking always so keen on taking a plunge
to bridge any gap on the way.
I am breathing now the darker dark
of my garden’s tall trees,
shadows like seas,
that tell you “swim and space, swim and pass”,
in the persistence of absence
which darkness makes
just a little bit more bearable.
Let me stay then
enveloped in this dark,
in it I can still endure in my aching
and please let dawn be long, long in the making.

4 comments:

Dave King said...

This really is drop dead gorgeous. I was completely taken by the first three lines, then overwhelmed by the next three. Then came thoughts sliding on the skin of the dark. Inspirational! I could quote it all, but then we'd be into the law of diminishing returns, so I'll content myself with that last line, so aptly lingering: "and please let dawn be long, long in the making!. Masterly.

Gordon Mason said...

Great imagery again, Davide. Particularly liked the section about the cars whooshing - all the 's' and 'sh' sounds after that continue the image so well.

At Callander Poetry Weekend, I was speaking with the editors of Pushing Out The Boat - and they showed me some of the recent work: immediately I found your poem and they were thrilled to know that I knew you too! Congratulations on the poem in Issue 10.

Tommaso Gervasutti said...

Many, many thanks Dave and Gordon.

Tuz said...

"Hello darkness my old friend, I've come to talk with you again."