Ali Matteini

a life creative

Lunedì Poesia: Demeter and Persephone / Demetra e Persefone

 

[In English first then Italian / In inglese e poi sotto in italiano]

Demeter – early spring

along her arms
the knowledge creeps
bubbles with the waiting
ejaculates petal and birdsong
the cat in sudden heat warbles greeting
a crazy orchestra of homecoming
as her daughter pushes into
the kitchen like glaciermelt

demeter gathers the morain of her year
sweeps it to the corners
makes tea.

Persephone – late summer

on grass tinted tedium
she lies with her mother, umbrellaed by an elm
runs a finger through hot kitten fur
for the hundredth time
the nights are sweet, still,
with drunken sunsets
balmy and best spent with her man
she thinks
and sighs
the sound of wind through owl feathers
the kitten rolls off her
patpatpats at something
a leaf
the sound foreign
crisp, welcome
she opens an eye
catches the line of her mother’s gaze
the ravine between her eyes
the leaf is yellowed
a poem of want to her
a tender letter to her mother

Demeter – late autumn

smooth and bare
her daughter’s arms
raised to be picked up
wintered branches
that let through the lowered light
a beacon
she thinks
as though it could allay the frost

Persephone – winter

she keens forward
a wraith
running ahead of herself
for the line of poplars outside her gate
down the drive
her hound will be galloping
to greet her, then
later
the hearth
the dog’s large threefold head
in her lap
her back against her man’s knees
his hands in her hair

with love on both sides
she can never know the cold

_____________

Demetra – all’inizio della primavera

lungo le sue braccia
i brividi della conoscenza
bollono con l’attesa,
eiacula i petali e il canto degli uccelli

la gatta in calore d’improvviso gorgheggia, saluta
un’orchestra folle, di ritorno a casa propria,
la sua figlia spinge
se stessa dentro la cucina,
come un ghiacciaio sgelato

Demetra raccoglie la morena del suo anno,
la spazza agli angoli,
fa il tè.

Persefone – fine estate

su erba tinta in colore di noia
lei si trova con la madre, ombreggiate dall’olmo
traccia un dito dentro la pelliccia calda del gattino,
per l’ennesima volta

le notti sono dolci, ancora,
con i tramonti ubriachi,
una serata mite e svanita
sarebbe migliore se è stata trascorsa
con il suo uomo
lei pensa
e sospira un soffio del vento
attraverso le piume della civetta

il gattino esce dalla sua carezza per seguire qualcosa
una foglia, forse,
il suono straniero,
croccante, e benvenuto

lei apre un occhio,
cattura la linea dello sguardo della sua madre,
il burrone fra le sue sopracciglie;

la foglia è ingiallita:
una poesia di desiderio per Persefone,
una lettera cordiale a sua madre

Demetra – autunno tardo

lisce e nude
le braccia della sua figlia
sono alzate 
in attesa di essere sollevate,
rami svernati,
che consentono che la luce abbassata
passi tranquillamente

Demetra pensa, “Persefone è un faro”
se come il pensiero potesse alleviare il gelo

Persefone – inverno

lei, si appoggia in avanti,
lei è un fantasma
che corre davanti a se stessa
lungo il vialetto,
verso la linea dei pioppi davanti alla sua porta

il suo segugio starà galoppando
a salutarla,
poi dopo, al focolare,
con le tre grandi teste del cane
nel grembo di lei,
e la sua schiena appoggiata
alle ginocchia del suo uomo,
le mani di lui 
nei capelli di lei

lei sa che, con amore su entrambi i lati
non potrà mai conoscere il freddo

Screen Shot 2016-03-22 at 11.40.05

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