A Poem by Antonella Anedda
Storditi dalla nostalgia, confusi dai sogni, con i teli da bagno pieni di vento, con la rapida incompleta visione di una casa al mattino. Laggiú nell’aria il ronzio dell’aspirapolvere sui tappeti e i tonfi dei tappeti contro i muri. Nelle
The poem transports readers through a vivid sensory experience, drenched in nostalgia and confusion. Bath towels are filled with the wind, and the quick, incomplete vision of a house greets them at dawn. A vacuum cleaner whirs on carpets, and carpet thumps against walls. As an April thunderstorm rolls in, the city is divided by the air.
The long hours of the storm precede chaos, with windows thrown open to visitors. Light and sound then alter; walls stay whitened by rain, while the ceiling remains high above our heads. Cautious footsteps echo in the halls, devoid of human voices but accompanied by a plant by a balcony and windows open to the rain. Beyond the tree and the tall roof, houses stand closed and lamps nestle near tables, some round and some square.
Small tables bear playing cards. Water flows without hail; thunder's fury is absent, and the tree bends into whiteness as the dark, perfect roof serves as the axis of an incarnate geometry. The city, separated from the air, stands as a stark reminder of this surreal scene.
Written by urgent.news from Literary Hub's reporting — not their text. Machine-written — may contain errors; check the original before relying on it.
