I believed I was me
when I lay beside myself at night
(on my right side so I could turn my back to the world).
My mother was not yet me
and my father too had never imagined
that I could be him
(or vice-versa).

As you can see doctor
I have lost my head in this lucid
reasoning
but I can't find yours either in the light of your collar.
Perhaps you keep it under your white coat
for fear that I might seize it by the nose
and maybe shake it
and maybe make it go mad with a festive
jingling of thoughts.

Translation: 2017, Matilda Colarossi