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Before the night falls,
A process above thought –
I see the ballerina’s leg move,
Ideas don’t occur
In abstract form,
They come in bodies.
The moment when the ballerina
Seems to take me off
The edge of music,
As if to find meter within the silence
Encircling the arena –
My bed,
I start to strive toward the horizon-
The ceiling of the bedroom,
As though an instant more
and I will fly –
– exploring the confines of two eyes.
The tension gradually falls:
I’m sinking to my pillow,
Arms waving faintly – a tired swan,
Fingers quiver
like the harp strings,
Day preoccupations lose feathers
Before I have awoken.

“Quando”, 29×21, palo santissimo and pen, Sara Maino 2021