Italian Impertinence Incubator
The last act of the tragedy
Insolent judgmental intruders
throughout the whole year
never asking how I am
only rigorously imposing themselves
on me
with your lifestyle
attacking and encroaching the entire country
with supposedly delicious pasta
yet
on the other side of the story
showcasing a shameless tragedy
in the last act
played mercilessly like a plague
cutting a swathe through
my soul
up to the point
of my faint sailing
in the Mediterranean
with only one thought trapped in between
these lines
to survive
your shark attacks
multiplied
with purpose, power, and persistence
accusatory works
like a murderer
inconspicuously infecting my equanimity
*
To A. C.’s crowd
*
August – September 2021
---
Thank you for reading!
About the Creator
Moon Desert
UK-based
BA in Cultural Studies
Crime Fiction: Love
Poetry: Friend
Psychology: Salvation
I write only because there is a voice within me that will not be still.
Sylvia Plath
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More stories from Moon Desert and writers in Poets and other communities.
The Cave Part 11
Darkness, and the countless points of light, as if the entire void beyond was filled with the fire of a million stars. I felt as if I was staring into the eternity of a night sky beyond those wooden doors, the place beyond the actual reality, while I stood behind a curtain of scenery, the mountain and sky a mere pretense. And in that void beyond of unfathomable space, there hung suspended a mighty shard of crystal floating in place, with hundreds of a far smaller chunks orbiting around it in balanced but intersecting circles, no two in the same path. These caught the light from the center, and sparkled with inner fire each.
By Jamye Sharpa day ago in Chapters
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