from Comet

Stella N'Djoku

I finish turning my
twenty-five your
eighty-eight years unfinished his
twelve days after
another twenty-five.

As if I you he
who then is him

had the same
lines on our hands.

As if yesterday today tomorrow
were not places
and were here now
in centuries.
 

 

Perhaps the locked code
gull prints
on sand joined
breaths are seen better
from above. Everything has
a million granules’ sense
to form shells.
 

 

Halfway
amid deserted sea and higher
woods and mountains

Rootless
shoulders Atlantic
to stand the load

I cannot contain
what contains me.
 

 

You were there
nestled against yourself
a small aggregate of rubble 

awaiting verdicts is not
the end of the world
if we’re then you and I these trees
to gouge these benches’
wood with fingers
doodle eyes on ants.

It’s June twenty from today
you’re free, says the straight
line of your back
the smile
the flowering fig.

 

 
Kiss me,
just once.
Me
who before you
did not ask this of anyone else.
 

 

Who will dare to say that you
were and are not
today which is October
and the rain which falls
has millions of years of former
lives.

The emptiness
corridors unfinished love
never-tomorrows
remain.

translated from the Italian by Julia Anastasia Pelosi-Thorpe