3 Amelia Rosselli Translations by Roberta Antognini and Deborah Woodard

By , and | 7 May 2025

III

They melted the war device with my
fingers too busy to have
cannibalistic foods and the whole world
ran to see.

Shattered penis and broken conduct are
there to guide you: experience is
the master of the listless, the poor in imagination
that rolling in the afterlife wanted

to imprison you. Desire to act tempered
by habits that instead have trembling
practices: of not knowing where
they left them.

And it’s duty leading you as if it were
a cracked and faded lantern that
illuminates nothing except your foot’s
missteps.

Airplanes started shooting
on a crowd then betrayed as
it’s normal in everyday rain
and even in the evening.

Every day they try a trap and every
day purity returns and every night
they question what they did
by day.

They dream by day; keep watch by night;
in the afternoon they sleep; in the morning pray.

They pray that it won’t leave so soon
the life that hid death for
so long until one day they found
the night laid out like the dead.

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