Kosrof Chantikian: Fiesole
1. Morning
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
The fleshy
tissue of colors
of each of your
hands
and your summer fingers
undressing
the wild dreams
of the night sky
