Chiara Fersini

Where do you keep it?

Why won’t you show it to me?

When I gave it to you

I imagined that you’d wear it always

As precious and delicate as blown glass

I thought you’d guard it

Display it, caress it as air

A spiritual nimbus infusing

Your unkempt chakras

In moments of despair


I thought if you held it inside

That love would kindle

A waxy lupine moon

As infantile as a tealight

To nudge you home

You who have never known

Anything akin to family


A lozenge to obscure

Your grotesque suffering,

To exorcize momentarily

The apparition corroding

So utterly your throat

I should have written you a script

Knowing that you did not posses

An answer capable of averting my wrath


Hate travels the same narrow veins

As love and so often mixed

Perhaps they are not antonyms at all

But prerequisites of a vast

Psychogenic ecosystem

You who are the quickening

The accelerant that burns

My puritanical bones black

You who birth me unrecognizable

And disturbingly human


You immerse me

In the iridescent plumage

Of nodding flightless birds

A star perching stupidly

In its brittle unsavory womb

A tiny sparkling sarcophagi

Destined for a life of subterfuge


You bury me as contraband

As if I were filthy and illegitimate

You do not speak of us

In the company of others

You do not even seek such company

As would necessitate speech

But in the dark you turn me over

In your callused hands

As if I were truly precious

I do not understand you at all