Low Transmission

before the roosters’ crow the inquisitors woke up
to burn on the pyre the other wise housewives,
the other old maids with old-fashioned dresses,
the other God’s servants praying in silence

the real witches gathered their circles around
internal combustion engines, wireless communication,
anti-gravitational acceleration,
microchips, nanotechnology, lotions, pills and serums

each of them invented another torture instrument
in the era where the condemned cannot hide in the woods,
with respiratory monitoring, calculated blood glucose,
or the pupillary distance being the object of customs inquiries

I wonder how much longer shall I breathe
with so many electromagnetic fields
around forest snowdrops barely rising and blooming,
with the heart like a fish in an oval aquarium,
the squared stomach burning in its corners,
the frontal brain projected on parabolic antennas’ mirrors

how many Walpurgis dances will I be able to endure
in this world throwing instant iPhone, iPad messages
like rotten apples over all martyrs,
in this night with its charms sealed behind seven locks,
but beautiful like a blue-eyed brunette virgin

(February, 2013)

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