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Through too many days of the easy summer
by Luca Dombré
Through too many days of the easy summer
my spirit has wandered across
the winding ways of a wooden counter,
all my demons perched along the amber sinews
leading to the rotten tomb of regrets
cleft right in the well of my womb.
So many summer days have passed away
buried under the brown fall of leaves
of an autumn dusk,
a storm suspended
in the sleepy flow of a flask,
with feathers and flakes piling up
like a bulky burden
on my bubble-packed heart.
Across those muddy tides my breath sailed out
back to the origins of a smile misunderstood
and a whisper strangled in its cradle
by the untied hands of a ruthless slayer:
she, and my awareness that eyes will shut forever.
Rules are a broken tongue in the language of love,
bruise is the spoken word that stands above
and explains all the mutterings under starry nights
inhumed in the memory of my withering youth.
I could only envision a cozy future back then,
it's the stalemate of the present
now that I'm a man.