Three Poems by Gabriella Picerno

LULLABY BETWEEN THE CLOUDS

I would like to cradle you

with all the slowest whispers

of my voice,

letting in

my impalpable breath

between your hands

and then reaching you

everywhere.

Wrapping you around my arms

in a cloak of skin

which holds the warmth of my kisses,

of encounters in the dim light.

Lighting up appetizing caresses

in your eyes

and in your lips drawing the borders

until...

I would sing,

in your hair,

a lullaby

which gently touches your face

with sweet symphonies in syllables.

To contemplate your relaxed face

as you fall asleep

with dreams that have my features

and the scent of my hair.

TO THE BORDERS OF LOVE

Your lips are looking for mine

like the sea brushing the cliffs.

An intimate light touch

surprises me

a jolt of love shakes me

I stand up like a hat in the wind.

My eyes plunged in the horizon of light

of your pupils

make me reach the edge of life.

In the quiet moment,

eternal

borders get lost

vanishing like butterflies inbetween sky and sea.

Everything is us.

Whispering lips,

strong pulses

overcome every frontier,

they tie us like ropes

the strong warmth cradles us arm in arm

lip in lip.

Looking at each others and smelling only

clean, neat fragrances

that come from far away

beyond every border.

RUNNING IN THE WIND

I would like to run by your side

with fingers strong at the detachment

and to see you smiling without inhibitions,

free,

barefoot.

Starting to scream

that word that you whispered in your heart

wishing it stayed there

secret, protected,

unutterable.

But now sustained by the wind,

it walks through the world

singing on the trees and flowers,

rolling on the sand

like a sweet smile.

Then to stop,

rejoicing from looking at each other’s

calming down our breaths,

with a tender deep kiss

and there in that abyss

not to know anymore...

not to understand a thing anymore.

Amen.

Gabriella Picerno is a psychologist, pedagogist, sexology counselor, expert in Child Drawing and Learning Psychology. She is the manager of Educational Study Centre “The Speaking Cricket” in Rufina (Florence). She has been involved for ages in projects of training and workshops in parenthood training, as well as emotions and sexuality.

Her works have been included in numerous poetry anthologies such as: A touch of sky (2018), A touch of sky (2019), Un toque de cielo Ediciones Alborismos (2022), Whispers and tides (2022) GD Edizioni.

Co-director (together with Cristina Desideri) of the Children's Literature Series Il Filo di Arianna for GD Edizioni. Curator of the Literary Awards: La Botteguccia delle Favole and Lo Zaino Raccontastorie.

 

Four Poems by Kit Willett

 

Burnout 

 

A creative, face down on couch, 
nose pressed into cushion.  
Breathing slow and deep, face  

 

turns, covered in insomniac’s  
sleep lines to drag eyes open.  
Piles of unread books are a fort;  

 

taking even one would risk  
structural integrity. Cooking  
dinner would risk structural  

 

integrity. Movement would risk  
it. Eye half-rubbed. Trudge  
to bathroom to shower for heat.  

 

Phone alarm reminds water  
intake. And look at toothbrush  
with contempt. Scroll. Scroll. Scroll. 

Slowly 

 

You taught him the potency 
of the word ‘slowly’. 
Before you, how would he know 
what it meant 
for you to run your hand 
across his arm slowly, 
for you to touch the small  
of his back slowly, 
for you to bring your face to his 
and kiss him slowly? 

Something that resembles Redon 

 

The vase sits in the middle of the canvas.  

Those flowers were arranged yesterday,  

and you can remember they were beautiful.  

 

Now, they have begun to slowly fall apart.  

There is still something that you find striking  

about the composition; it is truly balanced.  

And, the flowers are still perky and bright.  

 

It is just that, and you were there when he did it,  

he crammed them into the vase in a rush.  

 

He was never a patient man. He jabbed  

and shoved stalk after stalk into this pot,  

and now, the dandelions have fallen out.  

 

He went to bed for the night, and they fell,  

and now they are immobilised in his image:  

an in-between moment of how he set them  

and how he found them: an imagined medium.  

 

And you even offered to fix them. He laughed 

and said that without those damned dandelions,  

the cornflowers were far more prominent.  

 

You said that the poppies had started to droop 

and that you still prefer his earlier work. 

Untitled 

 

Today, I think I earned it, 

that this word has been planted 

deep inside me, 

that I belong with you. 

 

It is not something to be 

earned, a sexuality; 

it is something gifted, 

something claimed. 

 

And yet, I feel that I 

have earned it— 

now, on this Tuesday afternoon.

Kit Willett is a bisexual poet, English teacher, and executive editor of the Aotearoa poetry journal Tarot. His debut poetry collection, Dying of the Light, was published by Wipf and Stock imprint Resource Publications in 2022.