Slumbering in the belly of the whale
her dreams were woven of water and
salt crystals.
In the depths she slept the long years
carried through coral forests and
ocean canyons.
Filtering krill through his jaws, some
found sanctuary between
her fingers.
On awakening, she discovered them.
They danced, twirling joyously on
her palm.
Their dance of sparks ignite a light
and in their foot prints
she steps.
Inspired to greatness, yet she is humbled
into submissive repetition of
love's labour.
In sleep transported to celestial shores
her creation must prove in the warm,
amniotic sun.
her dreams were woven of water and
salt crystals.
In the depths she slept the long years
carried through coral forests and
ocean canyons.
Filtering krill through his jaws, some
found sanctuary between
her fingers.
On awakening, she discovered them.
They danced, twirling joyously on
her palm.
Their dance of sparks ignite a light
and in their foot prints
she steps.
Inspired to greatness, yet she is humbled
into submissive repetition of
love's labour.
In sleep transported to celestial shores
her creation must prove in the warm,
amniotic sun.
Marisa Cappetta 2007
Angel
Meeting
in the wind
swept ether,
we smiled.
Lines of
code carry
gentle missives.
Sad stories
handed to
each other,
held tenderly.
Wordless whispers
of solace,
reach me
reach you.
With a flutter of
sweet serenity,
the words
alight on
the screen
and invite touch.
I reach out
you reach out,
fingertips
lightly brush
the words.
in the wind
swept ether,
we smiled.
Lines of
code carry
gentle missives.
Sad stories
handed to
each other,
held tenderly.
Wordless whispers
of solace,
reach me
reach you.
With a flutter of
sweet serenity,
the words
alight on
the screen
and invite touch.
I reach out
you reach out,
fingertips
lightly brush
the words.
Marisa Cappetta 2007
Sleep
Sleep eludes me.
The shallow breath
trickles into my lungs
and I wait for the
soft void to descend.
Sleep does not come.
Fevered lucid dreams
toss me on waves
above deep waters of
pain, love and lust.
Sounding the depths
will only bring waking.
Peering over the rail
I see an upturned face,
she is pale and
endlessly sleepless.
Her mouth moves
and the words
float away, carried
by the cold current.
Closing my eyes
the shallow breath
like salt water
trickles into my lungs
and she pulls me,
drowning me in
the deep, soft void,
into a world
where words are silent,
touch is slow,
eyes are water blurred.
Where I can cross
the borderline between
sleep and awake.
Sleep?
Did you find me? Marisa Cappetta 2007
The shallow breath
trickles into my lungs
and I wait for the
soft void to descend.
Sleep does not come.
Fevered lucid dreams
toss me on waves
above deep waters of
pain, love and lust.
Sounding the depths
will only bring waking.
Peering over the rail
I see an upturned face,
she is pale and
endlessly sleepless.
Her mouth moves
and the words
float away, carried
by the cold current.
Closing my eyes
the shallow breath
like salt water
trickles into my lungs
and she pulls me,
drowning me in
the deep, soft void,
into a world
where words are silent,
touch is slow,
eyes are water blurred.
Where I can cross
the borderline between
sleep and awake.
Sleep?
Did you find me? Marisa Cappetta 2007
To Your Door
I have walked
to your door
everyday,
and everyday
imagined your face.
Everyday.
I have walked
to your door
on this sad
and lonely day,
and found it
overgrown with vines.
In time you'll
return to fold your
troubled future
and carry it away
in an old suitcase.
That day and ever more
I'll no longer walk
to your door or
wait upon the step
for you to show.
I'll leave the key
beneath the mat
and in time,
yes in time,
when my fingers
brush the rosemary
and the scent
evokes the memory,
I'll shed no tears,
only smile
and walk away.
Marisa Cappetta 2007
to your door
everyday,
and everyday
imagined your face.
Everyday.
I have walked
to your door
on this sad
and lonely day,
and found it
overgrown with vines.
In time you'll
return to fold your
troubled future
and carry it away
in an old suitcase.
That day and ever more
I'll no longer walk
to your door or
wait upon the step
for you to show.
I'll leave the key
beneath the mat
and in time,
yes in time,
when my fingers
brush the rosemary
and the scent
evokes the memory,
I'll shed no tears,
only smile
and walk away.
Marisa Cappetta 2007
rain
rain falls down
like proxy tears
coffee cup left on the lawn
fills to the brim
watch with detachment
as one more drop
breaks surface tension
and the cup overflows
spilling cold love
carelessly on the ground
Marisa Cappetta 2007
like proxy tears
coffee cup left on the lawn
fills to the brim
watch with detachment
as one more drop
breaks surface tension
and the cup overflows
spilling cold love
carelessly on the ground
Marisa Cappetta 2007
The Brass Kaleidoscope
He smiled an invitation
in the musty antique shop
where the peep show
shuffles it's aging images
of long gone coquettes,
stockings and fans now dust.
Creaking automaton minstrels
and magicians beckon,
a wax doll with a bruised face
glares balefully from her shelf
and the clock work bird
in it's gilded cage sings
at the drop of an old penny.
His smiled but said nothing
and with an eloquent gesture
drew me to the eyepiece.
Adjusting the mechanism
he showed me fractured colours,
changeable jeweled pictures,
shades of segmented light.
Laughing with delight I inhale
his closeness and warmth,
his heady scent of old houses,
incense and combined colours.
Marisa Cappetta 2007
in the musty antique shop
where the peep show
shuffles it's aging images
of long gone coquettes,
stockings and fans now dust.
Creaking automaton minstrels
and magicians beckon,
a wax doll with a bruised face
glares balefully from her shelf
and the clock work bird
in it's gilded cage sings
at the drop of an old penny.
His smiled but said nothing
and with an eloquent gesture
drew me to the eyepiece.
Adjusting the mechanism
he showed me fractured colours,
changeable jeweled pictures,
shades of segmented light.
Laughing with delight I inhale
his closeness and warmth,
his heady scent of old houses,
incense and combined colours.
Marisa Cappetta 2007
white
whiteness
tinted blue,
a suggestion of gold
and mist grey cloud overlaying
the colours of the evening sky.
fragile
chill tainted
breeze stirs the fox gloves
like tall sentinels watchful
for rumors of molten desire.
stillness
finds her ear
and confides a secret,
a whispering conspirator
trailing strands of velvet delight.
ecstatic
wet bonds
of satin entrapment
restrain her contentment,
allowing lust full dominion.
thirst
never slaked,
craving the climax
in a never ending quest
for an ultimate fulfillment.
emptiness
shaded grey
as knowledge dawns,
shedding thin light on the
unrequited dreams of the past.
Marisa Cappetta 2007
tinted blue,
a suggestion of gold
and mist grey cloud overlaying
the colours of the evening sky.
fragile
chill tainted
breeze stirs the fox gloves
like tall sentinels watchful
for rumors of molten desire.
stillness
finds her ear
and confides a secret,
a whispering conspirator
trailing strands of velvet delight.
ecstatic
wet bonds
of satin entrapment
restrain her contentment,
allowing lust full dominion.
thirst
never slaked,
craving the climax
in a never ending quest
for an ultimate fulfillment.
emptiness
shaded grey
as knowledge dawns,
shedding thin light on the
unrequited dreams of the past.
Marisa Cappetta 2007
Collision
There was a moment
before the collision,
when all the world
was as familiar to me
as the rich soil
in my garden,
moist and fragrant,
life surging upward.
That moment hung
suspended like the
last dew drop,
trembling and bright.
I turned to see it
break free and fall.
With cataclysmic silence
the poles reversed.
The shuddering of earth
caused my knees
to buckle and I fell.
Sorrow enfolded me
like the darkness
of a world's end sky
now hushed and
pregnant with anguish.
Days later I return
to the site of my fall,
my gloves remain
where I had loosened
and abandoned them
on the daisy strewn lawn,
prayerfully warming
in the spring sun.
Slipping them on again,
the heat transfers a
memory of the moment
before the collision
and it resembles
this new day of
sun-fragrant soil
and organza-light breeze.
Marisa Cappetta 2007
before the collision,
when all the world
was as familiar to me
as the rich soil
in my garden,
moist and fragrant,
life surging upward.
That moment hung
suspended like the
last dew drop,
trembling and bright.
I turned to see it
break free and fall.
With cataclysmic silence
the poles reversed.
The shuddering of earth
caused my knees
to buckle and I fell.
Sorrow enfolded me
like the darkness
of a world's end sky
now hushed and
pregnant with anguish.
Days later I return
to the site of my fall,
my gloves remain
where I had loosened
and abandoned them
on the daisy strewn lawn,
prayerfully warming
in the spring sun.
Slipping them on again,
the heat transfers a
memory of the moment
before the collision
and it resembles
this new day of
sun-fragrant soil
and organza-light breeze.
Marisa Cappetta 2007
Dessert
cultivating words
like ripe
blue berries
sweeten them
so they
may be
savoured
turned over
in your
mouth
feeling
the smooth
skin
before
biting down
and
extracting juice
colouring
thought
lingering on
the
tongue
after taste
of acid
salt
sweet
blue berry
words
Marisa Cappetta 2007
like ripe
blue berries
sweeten them
so they
may be
savoured
turned over
in your
mouth
feeling
the smooth
skin
before
biting down
and
extracting juice
colouring
thought
lingering on
the
tongue
after taste
of acid
salt
sweet
blue berry
words
Marisa Cappetta 2007
Wahine Toa
Pakeha woman I.
Teach me, strong women,
to gather the kina
and prepare puha.
Run to the rocks!
We will move fast,
nobody will catch us
or hold us back.
The green lipped mussels
wait to be gathered,
fire on the beach
and we feast.
Take my hand,
show me the way.
Share your home
so I'll have one too.
I have no ta moko and yet
the colours of this land
are blended into my skin.
I am initiated.
Marisa Cappetta 2007
wahine toa - strong woman Teach me, strong women,
to gather the kina
and prepare puha.
Run to the rocks!
We will move fast,
nobody will catch us
or hold us back.
The green lipped mussels
wait to be gathered,
fire on the beach
and we feast.
Take my hand,
show me the way.
Share your home
so I'll have one too.
I have no ta moko and yet
the colours of this land
are blended into my skin.
I am initiated.
Marisa Cappetta 2007
pakeha - person of non Maori descent, usually European
kina - sea urchin
puha - native green vegetable, rich in iron
ta moko - traditional Maori facial tattoo
Seabird
Wiping away a hot tear with fingers chilled
by the sneering, savage sea wind,
she longs for her steps in the sand
to bring her nearer to her beloved,
but the world has reversed direction
and she moves further away.
Seagulls scream discouragement,
jeering like school girl bullies
playing keep away with her hopes,
waves splash a cold invitation
smiling a promise of respite
from the taunts and she is felled
by water like a freezing axe.
Sand particles murk the light beams,
hands are less solid down here,
dreams float around her like kelp
tangling in her legs, dragging her further
into the deep dispassionate sea,
fighting the riptide she inevitably
surrenders herself to the living death.
Washed up on an unkind shore
a small crab forages delicately in her hair,
searching for broken pieces of dreams,
her mouth full of sand and sea water,
no room for words, they're replaced
by forlorn cries and torn feathers
of a seabird lost in a storm.
Marisa Cappetta 2007
by the sneering, savage sea wind,
she longs for her steps in the sand
to bring her nearer to her beloved,
but the world has reversed direction
and she moves further away.
Seagulls scream discouragement,
jeering like school girl bullies
playing keep away with her hopes,
waves splash a cold invitation
smiling a promise of respite
from the taunts and she is felled
by water like a freezing axe.
Sand particles murk the light beams,
hands are less solid down here,
dreams float around her like kelp
tangling in her legs, dragging her further
into the deep dispassionate sea,
fighting the riptide she inevitably
surrenders herself to the living death.
Washed up on an unkind shore
a small crab forages delicately in her hair,
searching for broken pieces of dreams,
her mouth full of sand and sea water,
no room for words, they're replaced
by forlorn cries and torn feathers
of a seabird lost in a storm.
Marisa Cappetta 2007
May 2007
Cool autumn rain.
The sycamore seeds are muddy.
Ducks fly low in pairs,
I caught part of their conversation,
held it to my ear then set it free,
a secret known only to me,
scattered now, to confide in the wind.
Clouds rest on hills like weary voluptuaries,
soft with expectancy.
Small girls run against the wind
yellow raincoats flying behind.
Marisa Cappetta 2007
The sycamore seeds are muddy.
Ducks fly low in pairs,
I caught part of their conversation,
held it to my ear then set it free,
a secret known only to me,
scattered now, to confide in the wind.
Clouds rest on hills like weary voluptuaries,
soft with expectancy.
Small girls run against the wind
yellow raincoats flying behind.
Marisa Cappetta 2007
The Mirror
The woman in the mirror stared back in surprise.
Once upon a sultry glance she trusted herself,
knew the strength in her blood was an antidote to frailty.
Where is that self assurance now, the confidence
to dream daring dreams of the future on a mountain top?
How to continue the ascent with doubt clinging to her feet?
Mirror mirror on the wall, who's the fairest of them all?
Every vulnerability exposed to her own glance
as the mirror reflects truth unadorned,
she turns away in shame, cowering from naked honesty.
Swallowing her emotions she begins the ascent again,
careful to shroud the revelations of the mirror,
struggling upwards, hoping bravado will dislodge doubt.
Marisa Cappetta 2007
Once upon a sultry glance she trusted herself,
knew the strength in her blood was an antidote to frailty.
Where is that self assurance now, the confidence
to dream daring dreams of the future on a mountain top?
How to continue the ascent with doubt clinging to her feet?
Mirror mirror on the wall, who's the fairest of them all?
Every vulnerability exposed to her own glance
as the mirror reflects truth unadorned,
she turns away in shame, cowering from naked honesty.
Swallowing her emotions she begins the ascent again,
careful to shroud the revelations of the mirror,
struggling upwards, hoping bravado will dislodge doubt.
Marisa Cappetta 2007
Home
Joan's voice tells me to come on home.
I've still to discover where that is.
Places resonate, I hear the deep chord
of a bow drawn across a cello,
but no concerto.
So Restlessness visits me again.
Tickling the souls of my feet.
Beckoning me forward with those
bedroom eyes and wicked smile,
but no promises.
"Got any suggestions?", I ask.
His smile turns into a laugh.
"Oh, you're very helpful", says I
with more than a hint of disgust,
but no ideas.
My only home is a house of cards.
My helpful friend likes that.
He can pack it up or blow it down
at the whim of an enticing horizon.
It's not so bad.
Marisa Cappetta 2007
I've still to discover where that is.
Places resonate, I hear the deep chord
of a bow drawn across a cello,
but no concerto.
So Restlessness visits me again.
Tickling the souls of my feet.
Beckoning me forward with those
bedroom eyes and wicked smile,
but no promises.
"Got any suggestions?", I ask.
His smile turns into a laugh.
"Oh, you're very helpful", says I
with more than a hint of disgust,
but no ideas.
My only home is a house of cards.
My helpful friend likes that.
He can pack it up or blow it down
at the whim of an enticing horizon.
It's not so bad.
Marisa Cappetta 2007
Midwinter Spell
Anguish lurks in corners around my bed,
dark, like leafless branches claws my head.
Solstice moon stalks behind turgid cloud,
waking, breathless, I cry aloud,
"Bring evergreen boughs for my rest,
burn the bonfire high and fast,
drum beats pound within my chest,
dagger cleaves flame and the spell is cast."
Sheets strangle like hands at my throat,
fleeing into the night, my breath floats.
Taking aim, with blood lust for the moon,
I loose an arrow and wail like a loon,
"Bring evergreen boughs for my rest,
burn the bonfire high and true,
drum beats pound within my chest,
crown me with ivy leaves and yew."
To the mountains then, in search of light,
snow and sun flare blend, dispelling night.
My hands outstretched I stand strong
and grasp shards of light like pieces of song,
"Bring evergreen boughs for my rest,
burn the bonfire high, higher.
drum beats pound within my chest,
dancing furiously, the dark expires."
Marisa Cappetta 2007
dark, like leafless branches claws my head.
Solstice moon stalks behind turgid cloud,
waking, breathless, I cry aloud,
"Bring evergreen boughs for my rest,
burn the bonfire high and fast,
drum beats pound within my chest,
dagger cleaves flame and the spell is cast."
Sheets strangle like hands at my throat,
fleeing into the night, my breath floats.
Taking aim, with blood lust for the moon,
I loose an arrow and wail like a loon,
"Bring evergreen boughs for my rest,
burn the bonfire high and true,
drum beats pound within my chest,
crown me with ivy leaves and yew."
To the mountains then, in search of light,
snow and sun flare blend, dispelling night.
My hands outstretched I stand strong
and grasp shards of light like pieces of song,
"Bring evergreen boughs for my rest,
burn the bonfire high, higher.
drum beats pound within my chest,
dancing furiously, the dark expires."
Marisa Cappetta 2007
Tree
I cling to a few fragile words
like the outermost twigs
of the highest branches
grasped with finger tips.
Eventually losing my grip
I fall to the ground.
Fall fast, fall far, fall hard,
collecting wounds as I descend.
My skin is scratched by words,
love lacerates my breasts,
body broken by protruding roots.
Embracing the pain I climb again
Marisa Cappetta 2007
like the outermost twigs
of the highest branches
grasped with finger tips.
Eventually losing my grip
I fall to the ground.
Fall fast, fall far, fall hard,
collecting wounds as I descend.
My skin is scratched by words,
love lacerates my breasts,
body broken by protruding roots.
Embracing the pain I climb again
Marisa Cappetta 2007
Choosing Divinity
Blind sided by my emotions,
I pray to any voyeuristic deity that may be listening
with contemptuous glee, scornful of my petition.
In my prayer I ask to be stripped of emotion.
Leave me coldly observant.
Give me sensuality devoid of attachment.
This is the god like state, I am convinced.
Clothed in this flesh I am a vile hypocrite,
at once desirous of a devotion,
yet fearfully rejecting any claim to my affections
that I might mistakenly identify as love.
Take my betraying body, you jealous gods,
leave only the exquisite memory of ecstasy
that I may conjure and banish at will, leaving no trace of need.
Corporeality assailed, I am equal with
sardonic angels and demons alike.
I can look with amusement at the struggle
of humans as they seek absolution from frailty
in the communion of a shared glance.
The smile slips from my face as realisation dawns;
I have offered my empathy as expiation for my humanity.
I am given a choice; to live in the cold state of divinity,
or return to the warm shawl of mortality where
the metallic taste of blood on my bitten tongue
blends with salt from the tears, lips and skin of my beloved.
If I bare my throat, I offer myself as sacrifice to the blade
certain in the knowledge that to love is to be alone.
My lover's hands are warm upon me, seducing me from truth.
Marisa Cappetta 2007
I pray to any voyeuristic deity that may be listening
with contemptuous glee, scornful of my petition.
In my prayer I ask to be stripped of emotion.
Leave me coldly observant.
Give me sensuality devoid of attachment.
This is the god like state, I am convinced.
Clothed in this flesh I am a vile hypocrite,
at once desirous of a devotion,
yet fearfully rejecting any claim to my affections
that I might mistakenly identify as love.
Take my betraying body, you jealous gods,
leave only the exquisite memory of ecstasy
that I may conjure and banish at will, leaving no trace of need.
Corporeality assailed, I am equal with
sardonic angels and demons alike.
I can look with amusement at the struggle
of humans as they seek absolution from frailty
in the communion of a shared glance.
The smile slips from my face as realisation dawns;
I have offered my empathy as expiation for my humanity.
I am given a choice; to live in the cold state of divinity,
or return to the warm shawl of mortality where
the metallic taste of blood on my bitten tongue
blends with salt from the tears, lips and skin of my beloved.
If I bare my throat, I offer myself as sacrifice to the blade
certain in the knowledge that to love is to be alone.
My lover's hands are warm upon me, seducing me from truth.
Marisa Cappetta 2007
dark water
In the house of my dreams the monarchs fly
forlornly weaving dusty sunlit patterns,
their last dance
of autumn
Opening doors to empty and echoing rooms
I hear scattered fragments of sound,
tattered remnants
of a voice
Give me one moment more in a teacup
filled with a libation of salt water,
tears blend
undetected
Then lower me down into the well I placed
in the garden of my inner sanctuary,
suspend me in
dark water
Marisa Vittoria Cappetta 2007
forlornly weaving dusty sunlit patterns,
their last dance
of autumn
Opening doors to empty and echoing rooms
I hear scattered fragments of sound,
tattered remnants
of a voice
Give me one moment more in a teacup
filled with a libation of salt water,
tears blend
undetected
Then lower me down into the well I placed
in the garden of my inner sanctuary,
suspend me in
dark water
Marisa Vittoria Cappetta 2007
Reply to Stavropol
The horizon stretches beyond the eye's reach,
curved, encircling the planet without end,
light touches down, point by point,
walking along the arbitrary lines,
a forlorn explorer.
I made a crucial discovery, a test of physical law.
Hold up the mirror and reflect the light,
bounce it against the stratosphere
reflecting again to the earth,
bypassing distance.
Wondrous discovery! The distance can be assailed!
Celebrating as the companion to the joyful light,
reach again through the flickering window,
stretch out your fingers to me,
I can touch them now.
I will be forever grateful to the poet in love.
Words are keys to transition bearing me
to the hinterland of my imagination
via the foreshortened horizon,
conveyed by light.
Marisa Vittoria Cappetta 2007
curved, encircling the planet without end,
light touches down, point by point,
walking along the arbitrary lines,
a forlorn explorer.
I made a crucial discovery, a test of physical law.
Hold up the mirror and reflect the light,
bounce it against the stratosphere
reflecting again to the earth,
bypassing distance.
Wondrous discovery! The distance can be assailed!
Celebrating as the companion to the joyful light,
reach again through the flickering window,
stretch out your fingers to me,
I can touch them now.
I will be forever grateful to the poet in love.
Words are keys to transition bearing me
to the hinterland of my imagination
via the foreshortened horizon,
conveyed by light.
Marisa Vittoria Cappetta 2007
Rhapsody
listen
one note
a note blended with pathos
a disembodied breath trails along my arm
raising little hairs
tears blend with note and breath
find a place of silence
in the total absence of sound
in the place just before dreaming
I clearly hear a voice say my name
sounds that weave an experience
wave wind swift low flying wings cicada voice
venture to stall thought and speech
and allow the fabric of sound
to me drape in sensation
Marisa Vittoria Cappetta 2007
one note
a note blended with pathos
a disembodied breath trails along my arm
raising little hairs
tears blend with note and breath
find a place of silence
in the total absence of sound
in the place just before dreaming
I clearly hear a voice say my name
sounds that weave an experience
wave wind swift low flying wings cicada voice
venture to stall thought and speech
and allow the fabric of sound
to me drape in sensation
Marisa Vittoria Cappetta 2007
Conversation With Lancelot
So cold, your hands, like ice.
I hear the scrabbling of the mice,
within the cold walls of your solitude.
At the approach of the millennium deserted by Christ
and 'slouching, rough beast' alike,
murmur softly to me for the Sisters are near.
Suddenly you weep, suddenly pale,
cursed by the memory of your sangreal.
The vainglory of the myth belied by trembling tears. By your deep despair and decline caressed,
your stumbling words describe your deathless quest;
from your mouth I breathe desire to seek truth within the tale.
.
Speaking as though to a child,
your precious face collapses, dignity defiled
by the Sisters of this age, keepers of mortification.
Continue, but speak cautiously. I will not risk the pyre.
I hear their foot steps as they circle the impassive alter,
offering up prayers to their austere deity.
.
Let them burn their cold fire and pace.
I prefer to touch your lips, your face,
reforge your words as a vessel and restore that which is lost.
Marisa Vittoria Cappetta 2007
I hear the scrabbling of the mice,
within the cold walls of your solitude.
At the approach of the millennium deserted by Christ
and 'slouching, rough beast' alike,
murmur softly to me for the Sisters are near.
Suddenly you weep, suddenly pale,
cursed by the memory of your sangreal.
The vainglory of the myth belied by trembling tears. By your deep despair and decline caressed,
your stumbling words describe your deathless quest;
from your mouth I breathe desire to seek truth within the tale.
.
Speaking as though to a child,
your precious face collapses, dignity defiled
by the Sisters of this age, keepers of mortification.
Continue, but speak cautiously. I will not risk the pyre.
I hear their foot steps as they circle the impassive alter,
offering up prayers to their austere deity.
.
Let them burn their cold fire and pace.
I prefer to touch your lips, your face,
reforge your words as a vessel and restore that which is lost.
Marisa Vittoria Cappetta 2007
River
Emptied of tears,
I gathered a handful of sycamore seeds,
stopped on the bridge and dropped them over the rail,
See? They whirl gracefully down, little helicopters,
carrying the words away on their wings.
Banishing those words to the Drowned Woman.
See there? It's her hair moving in the water. Long, green hair.
No, it's not weed, it's her hair.
Can you not see her face? Cold, terrible, beautiful,
lips that are stained as though with old blood,
pale eyes following the flight path of seeds.
She rests on the river bed, green hair flowing all around her,
waiting to snatch the words that hurt, she devours them.
That's why she is doomed to be drowned there,
weighed down by the words.
Marisa Vittoria Cappetta 2007
I gathered a handful of sycamore seeds,
stopped on the bridge and dropped them over the rail,
See? They whirl gracefully down, little helicopters,
carrying the words away on their wings.
Banishing those words to the Drowned Woman.
See there? It's her hair moving in the water. Long, green hair.
No, it's not weed, it's her hair.
Can you not see her face? Cold, terrible, beautiful,
lips that are stained as though with old blood,
pale eyes following the flight path of seeds.
She rests on the river bed, green hair flowing all around her,
waiting to snatch the words that hurt, she devours them.
That's why she is doomed to be drowned there,
weighed down by the words.
Marisa Vittoria Cappetta 2007
The Market Place
Yes, the women come and go, passing lightly.
The laughing woman moves her hair
in a gesture hinting at intimacy.
Sliding a hand down her bare arm,
she turns away from the silk scarves
that move in the breeze,
trailing soft fingers of fabric longingly after her.
The women come and go.
He rests a hand on the small of her back,
a stealthy finger slips beneath the hem of her shirt
between skin and fabric. A small claim.
Bending low and oblivious,
enticed by the silver flash of bangles,
she moves on, a fish flowing in the stream.
Passing lightly, the women come and go.
Resplendent with age,
she sniffs the cherries, scowling her approval.
Shrewd eyes, sunken now, somewhat,
repositories of family culture
as her breasts are of tears and joy.
Yes, the women come and go, passing lightly,
leaving behind the scent of a thousand flowers.
Marisa Vittoria Cappetta 2007
The laughing woman moves her hair
in a gesture hinting at intimacy.
Sliding a hand down her bare arm,
she turns away from the silk scarves
that move in the breeze,
trailing soft fingers of fabric longingly after her.
The women come and go.
He rests a hand on the small of her back,
a stealthy finger slips beneath the hem of her shirt
between skin and fabric. A small claim.
Bending low and oblivious,
enticed by the silver flash of bangles,
she moves on, a fish flowing in the stream.
Passing lightly, the women come and go.
Resplendent with age,
she sniffs the cherries, scowling her approval.
Shrewd eyes, sunken now, somewhat,
repositories of family culture
as her breasts are of tears and joy.
Yes, the women come and go, passing lightly,
leaving behind the scent of a thousand flowers.
Marisa Vittoria Cappetta 2007
allusion
wind blown rock
I look down
small shock
I see the skeleton of a hare
cradled in the gap
naked and desolate loveliness
fur still clinging to feet
salt bleached rib cage
poignantly exposed
a life lies broken
like my ability to brush your lips
with my palm
only light passes through my fingertips
Marisa Vittoria Cappetta 2007
I look down
small shock
I see the skeleton of a hare
cradled in the gap
naked and desolate loveliness
fur still clinging to feet
salt bleached rib cage
poignantly exposed
a life lies broken
like my ability to brush your lips
with my palm
only light passes through my fingertips
Marisa Vittoria Cappetta 2007
Seascape
Blonde grasses
wind woven in rhythmic patterns
blow kisses across seed heads
that strike my cheek with soft impact.
Pleated hills,
mist crawls stealthy among the folds,
no sunlight penetrates
to clear the mist from my eyes.
Wave rotten pylons,
blackened echoes of a past
surrendered to a woman
with sea water in her open mouth.
Caves ooze
from cliff faces inviting close inspection.
I roost like a sea bird,
sharp eye alert for submerged dreams.
Marisa Vittoria Cappetta 2007
wind woven in rhythmic patterns
blow kisses across seed heads
that strike my cheek with soft impact.
Pleated hills,
mist crawls stealthy among the folds,
no sunlight penetrates
to clear the mist from my eyes.
Wave rotten pylons,
blackened echoes of a past
surrendered to a woman
with sea water in her open mouth.
Caves ooze
from cliff faces inviting close inspection.
I roost like a sea bird,
sharp eye alert for submerged dreams.
Marisa Vittoria Cappetta 2007
Rosmarinus
no proximity leading to desire
or hedonistic calculation,
thought and word alone
create the erotic bond
mapped out in language and imagination,
lucid dreaming of the
profile of my ideal lover,
your name is the incantation
that fire synapses which constitute the real
Does the piquant distance
enhance the scent of the rose
as it trails along southern breezes,
stirring old memories?
Not only by virtue
of these ancient loves
do I exist.
All that remains
of the burden of passion
is a shard of remembrance,
enshrined within a composite
of experience and perception.
Prudence is my self-referential card.
Marisa Vittoria Cappetta 2007
or hedonistic calculation,
thought and word alone
create the erotic bond
mapped out in language and imagination,
lucid dreaming of the
profile of my ideal lover,
your name is the incantation
that fire synapses which constitute the real
Marisa Vittoria Cappetta 2007
Reliquary
I might have guessed.Does the piquant distance
enhance the scent of the rose
as it trails along southern breezes,
stirring old memories?
Not only by virtue
of these ancient loves
do I exist.
All that remains
of the burden of passion
is a shard of remembrance,
enshrined within a composite
of experience and perception.
Prudence is my self-referential card.
Marisa Vittoria Cappetta 2007
Six Seeds
Jane, speak.Fear not the extinguishing of hope
once the lid is lifted.
Painted eyes reflect a sweet, sentimental melancholy.
Ah, but I have seen the restlessness lurking;
the fearsome life within
may be your ultimate demise.
Thus their homage ignores ambition,
transforming you into an icon of the desired
in subtle complicity with Genesis.
A hero's test is preferable
to the accursed, ambiguous fruit.
Marisa Vittoria Cappetta 2007