Flaminia Cruciani, ITALY

SPARTA

You don’t know how they wept quietly in Sparta

on the heap of Dorian ancestors

from the crowded sepulchers when

an inferior sky married

the father was cursed along with his

gospel of oaths

cracked with use

swallowed into theological chaos

soiled by the equestrian circus.

The stopwatch went off and we were already late

to train as warriors

the chains that had to be fixed with

hands stiffened by the cold

for us to taste the ruin of a miracle

to grow strong as an army

a woman strong as an army

one step from immortality

with a crushed orchid in her fist.

I asked for nuclear mercy,

to weep and cry “at ease!”

I would have wanted a raft of almonds

and shelter under a kiss.

But within the voice’s range I only

marched in silence, head lowered

there was an enemy to be defeated,

it was me.

I AM …

I am the artillery and the peace

the convent of feathers

the gaiety of terracotta

where the crucifix keeps its fast

I am the angel drunk with god

the bread that starves the specters

the target blindfolded with light

I am the bell of air

that rings the silence

the back on which the bed rests

I am the prayer that washes water

the vineyard of ink

where light is harvested

I am the map for going astray

I am the sheer altar

where the all-powerful sits

when he repents

HARK YE

Hark ye

who fall in love with cruel pacts

I was overflowing with the truths I learned to withhold.

Hark ye whoever wants your tympanums

and takes away your acrobatics wants a gift

of the planets of your madness, you go back

comb time and make short work of dying.

I‘ll give birth to a new mother

my mother and she’ll be just a voice

a single voice like a password

without a mouth she will tell

about the cardiac nails

the Guelph roots where

summer unfroze the holy water.

And the great mother’s wrinkles will be mine

her conspicuous disease will be mine

and her muddiness will be my perfection.

And I’ll love her, we will love each other as one does in sleep

and I’ll take her place in the coffin

to let her live

without effort we will be a monad

and plural love will age us, our hands.

Flaminia Cruciani was born in Rome. She has published Sorso di notte potabile (LietoColle (2008) and Dentro (Pulcinoelefante, 2008), Frammenti (Pulcinoelefante, 2013), Lapidarium (Puntoacapo, 2015), Semiotica del male (Campanotto, 2016) and Piano di evacuazione (Samuele Editore, 2017), We Were Silent in the Same Language (Gradiva Publications, 2018, a selection of her poems in English translation), Chora, co- authored with Ilaria Caffio (Spagine, Fondo Verri. 2018) and Lezioni di immortalità, la vita, gli antichi, il senso della archeologia, based on her extensive knowledge of archaeology and poetry (Mondadori, 2018). Her poems have been published in numerous anthologies and translated into Arabic, Bulgarian, English, French, Korean, Mandarin, Romanian and Spanish. She is regularly invited to the most of the important International Poetry Festivals around the world. She is a Member of the Académie Européenne Des Sciences, Des Arts Et Des Lettres of France. 

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Women, Power & Creativity :: Setu, March 2019