Mended nerves
among fog, paperwork, jackets
twisted fingers
(veins and arteries intersected)
and afterwards tension on the wire, in the pen:
cakes are active mines at distance,
every spaghetto a knot, a new debt.

Your world stuck between the lenses,
you, a condo
crumbling in a moment.

Translation: 2004, Elisa Biagini