Sunday, May 01, 2016

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

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