Kosrof Chantikian: Fiesole

1.    Morning

The yellow roses

are hanging from the century’s

old iron gratings and wood beams

where dozens of birds – sitting and whistling

make their intelligible sounds

to one another   charting out their new day

From the pensione on the hill

you see the red tile roof of the Duomo.

Farther away the sky chokes from the gray scars of orphaned air

2.    Afternoon

I hear the woman’s heavy laughter

in the house below   bouncing as it echoes through the air

I imagine she is with her friend, her lover.

Her laughter becomes part of the landscape

that makes the countryside wild and alive

I hear the woman’s laughter again as the church bells toll nearby

two vastly different sounds   one from the body of the woman

the other symbolizing the body of Christ

I wondered if these two entirely different sounds could –

if they tasted each other – be transformed by love into one another?

3.   Night

How large is the chasm between your soft flesh and rough faith?

Between faith and the imagination?

Is experience everything?

Your laughter rushing forth uncontrollably

as if the rose’s fragrance were rising to the sky

trying to break down heaven’s gate

as if Circe were calling you home   calling you to her pleasures

The church bells sounding   the sound of His body

but the body only as idea   abstraction

Laughter would not chase away the sound of tolling bells

Laughter would grab onto that sound – swallow it wholly

But can the church bells accept

your body and your laughter?

Which would you choose?

I choose your laughter and your body together

The fleshy tissue of colors

of each of your hands

and your summer fingers undressing

the wild dreams of the night sky