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Pier Toffoletti


Your tongue fits me like a muzzle

Navel to the stars I wait for your hands

To dismiss me as if I were sterile

And incapable of transmission

I don’t think you’ve ever loved anyone

And I wonder if I ever could again

I may well have given everything

And you’ve crushed each piece

Fed it into your heart as if a hearse

And buried it miles down

That I should never rise again


Your wooden smile, a silent sentry,

Admits so little and favors no one

I circle your head as a vulture

Tracking your dead sinister eyes

Thinking how much better

You’d look without them

How much kinder

For they stand between us now

A barbed-wire fence

I tuck my shredded soul

Into a diary that reeks

Violently of human flesh

Ashamed of the madness

That summons you

Again and again to no avail