Glass Poetry Press

Volume Three Issue Two

Davide Trame


— to Erri De Luca A claw in the sinew, an eagle's beak pecking between bone and ligament. And an eagle's eye reminding in flashes of alertness of how stone and bone come close on the scree, under the sky; how easily can a body just drag itself, then crawl and finally lie down, becoming stone. Nothing in the body is made for soaring, so, those who moved out into the world of light knew well how to distrust the body making another sinew grow, like a butterfly breathing, out of the claw.