Possession


What I believe I have is my sense.
With this I feel the textures of my soul.
Left loose my legs tend to swing back and forth.
I move and the air brushes past my face.

I am going to use one future tense.
Throughout history my folks ate from a bowl.
Today I ask where does man find his worth.
This night my mind will dream of the right place.

People do laugh sometimes at my expense.
In my entire career, I scored one goal.
No such portrait remains like that of mirth.
Humour expands into the outer space.

To be good what drama needs is suspense.
The young athlete pivots above a thin pole.
A young mother labours a painful birth.
Sharapova serves yet another ace.

Just to protect all this man builds a fence.
Man draws inwards struggling to make life whole.
Unsex her here the milken fruits of Earth.
Man leaves her crying and packs the suitcase.

Bevagna, 15 5 2013