The room we stand in now
Is full of desire,
Of the desire in these
Oversized almond eyes,
Of the desire that leaves
Watermarks of Nature –
The great magician
Of both hope and delight,
Of the desire that rises
Now and every day
In the last moments of freedom.
I can hear the sounds of Verona far below:
The melody of children at play,
The hand-drawn lines of continuity
Where the eyes are to make love,
Regardless of their fictionality.
The anatomical vocabulary
To capture rough tenderness
In the room we stand in now
Full of plotlines
They come loose
From the impenetrable mess of history.
*Painting by restless Carol Rama