Two Poems|Aldo Quagliotti



I know, amid growing fears,

that my future doesn’t translate

into peaking, nor into ministerial codes

pregnancy doesn’t fall straight

into bilateral jurisdiction

future is way off-track

when you’re modelling your own shape

bright-eyed determination coasting

the abysmal call of depression


I have a perilous affinity

with darkness crowding in

spreading unsafely

through my prosopagnosia:

I recognize the mirage-like face

the whimsy trait d’union:

a mother is a map

a father   is the compass


I’m the tracing

of hundred people

of both

of nobody

I’m the question mark

never the answer



through the crack


as light filtered through the crack

our faces densely packed

with ragged-looking petals

were similar to a burgundy variety

of sunset

we were tangling our majestic spires

hands floating like flies

falling like spiders along our arms

a new day was starting, we were recovering

from the night

debating what season would come next

right inside our room

a sweaty summer of enveloped bodies

or a myriad of autumny impervious clouds

I decided your lips

would suit spring better

so I covered you with kisses

to replenish our rebirth



Photo by Suzanne D. Williams on Unsplash



Aldo Quagliotti is an Italian poet, born in a small town in northern Italy and raised near a lake that accompanied his endless afternoons of solitude populated by intermittent voices and cumbersome dreams. Prone to rebellion, he used his tongue as a pair of scissors to carve out a corner of the universe in which he could live and he soon became renowned for poetry: he came across it at conferences he sneaked into in Cambridge and at the Husky races that he loved watching at night during his stay in Austria. Disobedient and allergic to labels, he decided to live in London, where he attended the music critic course and thanks to which he now works as an aspiring music critic for the international magazine, Peek a boo. After several publications in Italy, which were written up in numerous poetry competitions, he decided to write a book that collects all his poems written in English. This was how his first anthology, Japanese Tosa, came about, a sinister journey into human emotions that escapes the definitions of everyday life and climbs in a timid attempt to reaffirm the universality of every anger and acrimony and the sacredness of each time we fall in love.

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