sister

AUTHOR Lucilla Trapazzo

It’s bathed in pink the asphalt before the hospital A cloud collapsed by mistake. On a wall an ugly imitation of Madonna Litta. I enter the room and your silence of bitter chicory

I turn my back to the nothingness That passes on TV

You are but a cypher - of time – of this time of the hollow mind, of bitterness for a closed hand, that you chase in vain And yet you are my flesh my blood My sister

I was your mum I was your dad. And again, I embrace you. Like a sail in the wind, I surrender. Take the words I don’t say listen, past the walls of silence

We are still humans we are hands and mouths, we are still trees