imago materna

the maiden with black eyes and uneven bangs
lived near the Episcopalian hill
somewhere on the street of the Muses
she understood the difference between good and bad on her own
somewhere between youth and old age
in the times of the last gypsy caravans and hand-weaving shuttles
swifter than the shifting summer constellations

how much did I love you mother
how much I loved you when you put on your towel bathrobe
short just above your knees
strange how you had so many things in pairs and half of them you gave to me
women’s suits swimwear berets sleeping gowns ruby gold rings

it’s only memories my mother nothing more
sometimes life was havoc and woe amid so many Muses
moreover amid the masters of astronomic calculus
which one of us was a comet even I cannot tell
you shared with both hands and took back the same way
in fact the time that can be measured only by the wisest
the time that shook off both of us
as if we were two ripe golden apples in the unguarded garden

some stars have frozen hearts some stars still burn within their heart
and there is also the awe-inspiring nothing
or the little magnetic angel stuck on your fridge
the dreams with our dead ones angry upon us or upon this sinful world
and the crucifix hanging in the most sober and white corner of the house
where you my mother are living

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Categories: My poems in 2016 | Tags: , , , , | Leave a comment

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