Winter Flower

Horn noise / wakes me up / I look out to the balcony.

Car / double-parked / it blocks the passage.

Double-breasted man / is in hurry / honks.

Woman in her forties / exits from the Post Office / breathless.

One hand holds the purse / the other hand squeezes bulletins to pay / it digs.

She searches for the keys / double parked car.

Keep honking / double-breasted man.

 

She moves the car / I say “I can’t believe it!”

Elderly-like comment / I get worried / I look around:

opposite building / my same floor / a woman in the balcony. She shakes her head / white / dissent.

She is watching too / she also disapproves.

I start to worry / really.

I try not to think about it.

 

I look away / It’s February / but my plants are blooming.

 

I count the buds / one, two, three …

A flower has blossomed!

It’s white / pure / snow.

I approach / I smell it: / it’s bird turd.

 

Fuckin’ bird / it shit on my plants.

I get angry / then I think over it / I tell myself:

“It’s just bird shit

but as long as I think it is a winter flower,

it is the most beautiful thing in the world.”

 

 


Poem by Stefano Carderi

Read in Italian:

Fiore d’Inverno

 

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