Trilogy of 3 Poems

By: Gabriella Garofalo



Does it account for Eve’s lover?
Sometimes artists get high
Or maybe it wasn’t good mud –
Anyway cicadas sing, grass and trees are freebies,
You’d like to meet him, but run into men, women
With their small clones in the streets, in the parks,
That’s all –
Where the hell have you been hiding, wind?
“I’m losing them”, so what?
It’s bound to happen,
Seed, blood, white, red,
You lose them if you give words away –
Something to bite?
Not that much, I’m afraid,
Hunger, beds, green season,
And it’s all underbrush
When mother moon and soul ad-lib advice:
“Get green out of your mind,
Arrange a date, do write “-
Well, natch, you listen,
But she’s worse than a meadow
Green-eyed soul when pleading
Water to flow down stony beds –
Bit of fresh air, maybe? –
Listen, it brews with anger
The wine that helps you
Carve words and granite:
Who wrote the bloody scripts?
You, God, my darkness, your life?
It’s all show you’ve heard lately,
But wrath’s getting words,
She gets your gift.


Nope they say, then hide behind books,
Then don’t love her –
So what? Strange people here –
Don’t you realise
Books and grass nest
If you rearrange shelves,
Don’t you realise
Days gather poems and souls –
Look, don’t bother with names,
You’re so dark you must be the sky –
Look, don’t bother with names,
Hold dear your acerbic bodies in trenches
While she’s busy elsewhere
With daffs and hunger of prophets
Who breeze through light chasing, what bloody job –
Anyway, kids live on in some rooms,
Shopping sprees do her good
Perhaps she’s got a body too –
No sudden change of noise, dark, ok?
Call her at night and don’t forget:
She leaves on her own –
Cobalt blue her set anyway.


Yes, they’re confident, they show bare limbs,
But don’t do asunder souls –
Stories are born when you settle
With wood that scatters and disbands –
Women? You can feel them,
Black looks bar light:
She gives herself as breathing dawn –
So, why did you scatter him, burning bush?
He didn’t store your fire?
Did you yank him to the undergrowth, you, wind?
What’s your name, who are you, you crusher of steep trees?
Go against wind, soul, for only questions
Hurl you to sky or water blue,
But do cold shoulder green –
Here they come, along with wind along with wolves,
Look how they brave the cold –
Friends, odd shapes, some have wings –
You disrobed of black and getaway.


Categories: Poetry

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