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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