By: Thomas Dedola
like a child leaning over the sink to eat an apricot so as to not stain the pretty Dengue fever-yellow dress her mother had spent the night fixing, so do you too often deny yourself the simplest pleasures.
Fishing starts and ends with carp, he said before putting out the stars one by one with the end of his cigarette. Once he runs out of patience, he'll throw everything overboard before grabbing your arm and telling you that if everyone had been crucified then no one would be special and where would that leave us?
When I am crowned King of all misunderstandings we'll be able to break out of this routine, but I am worried that they (who, my father? Maybe my father) were right and everyone is special so now no one can be. Not anymore. In the early hours I think we hear the foxes scream, although with all this confusion, it may as well be me.
Thomas Dedola is an Italian poet based in Cambridge, UK. He has had pieces previously published in Felan, Fictive Dream, Nine Muses Poetry and Panoplyzine. He has also co-produced a haiku anthology which was longlisted for a Saboteur Award in 2017