The Quince

people say she’s walking hunchbacked
loafing topsy-turvy
after each rain looking for snails with one eye
avoiding to step over fresh mushrooms
the other eye clings to the moon on clear sky
when the sun is still weak
her fingers tremble trying to catch butterflies
her big shadow scares them away
sometimes she makes a peaked cap with her hands
to avoid light burns

if you see her from afar she walks stumbling
if you pass by her side she looks aside
one day old foals lick her palms
chicks peck at her feet
she gathers everlastings
giving them to poor widows in cemeteries

it’s been said she became like this
when a quince fell upon her head
on a too hot October day
the cat just delivered five kittens
she placed them in a basket
swayed them one day and a night
keeping in her bosom a white one
as if it were a rose

at midnight she gets out
in the middle of the road
straightens her back leaning her head backwards
looking at the stars as if she were swallowing them
completely

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Categories: My Poems in 2011 | Tags: , , , , , , | Leave a comment

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