Un nuovo continente

di Paul Laraque

Combattenti dellʼalba che caccia gli ultimi mostri della notte

al passaggio la cui barriera si apre col soffio della speranza

gli eredi del cacicco e della sambà

ti vedono alla testa della muta europea

i fucili e i cani la schiavitù e la sifilide

che conquista questo continente al quale non lasciasti neanche

il tuo nome

From A BOOK OF WITNESS
Spells & Gris-Gris

1. The Case for Memory

I was amok & fearless
twice deceived
for which I sought out
satisfactions
in a tree. Too carelessly
I reached for love
& beaten down
I found you
in a froth or frenzy
spent my days around
the pan yards.
I would ask no help from those
whose trust is weak
but I would buy the latest
& the least.
I live for something practical
– the case for memory –
I set one foot into the space
the others leave abandoned.
Not your lord or slave
I meet you
in an equal clash of wills
& face you down.
I only touch the ground
on Sundays

Armature

For the feet, I push against the scrim the fact
that we waited for each other in different bookshops.

With a knife I smooth the calves
with the thought of my Arran cardigan, newly washed,
folded over your battered brown briefcase
giving us the number 146 from the cloakroom.

At the knee is the confusion of the word lift with escalator.