12 Degrees & Skiving

what began as year-long challenge has become perpetual until further notice

NaPoWriMo • 7 April • Ten Gardens Ago / Dieci Orti Fa

I wake in the quietest hour before dawn
to the scent from ten vegetable gardens ago
that year I picked out the soil
from underneath fingernails
for a week, turned rows, sifted,
I planted sunflowers

that year, three weeks later
drawn and quartered by illness
shed of weight and worry
I stood on the back step with the cat
who’d been my constant bedfellow
beside me as I fevered

we blinked together at all that light
a green glow breaking
like rivers against our eyes
in our absence
the garden had grabbed life, seduced sky
to meet soil
settled scores between grubs and mildew

that year my sunflowers had become
the multi-headed Scyllas of suburbia

and even as I creaked awake the snake of hose
drops, fattened by lust for gravity
broke open the perfume of drought in the concrete

this morning, the scent laves me awake
as though I sit in that garden in that late November heat
that cat sheltering from the rain under the crook of my knees
in that lull of recovery, under sunflowers
in the stillness before I felt parched reasons
lap empty a whole bowl of woken needs
and the people gone and animals loved
were all still in this world,
all in this quiestest hour before dawn

~     ~     ~

mi sveglio nell’ora più silenziosa prima dell’alba
al profumo di dieci orti fa
quell’anno ho pulito il terreno
da sotto le mie unghie
per una settimana , trasformato file di giardino , ho setacciato ,
e ho piantato i girasoli

quell’anno , tre settimane più tardi
e squartata dalla malattia
sollevata di peso e preoccupazione
rimasi sulle scale con il gatto
che era stato il mio compagno costante di letto
accanto a me mentre sudavo

ci sbatté le palpebre insieme a tutta quella luce
un bagliore di verde che spruzato
come i fiumi sui nostri occhi
in nostra assenza
il giardino aveva afferrato la vita , il cielo
è stato sedotto per soddisfare il suolo ,
i combattimenti sono stati risolti tra larve e muffe

i miei girasoli erano diventati
le Scylla di tante teste di periferia

e come io scricchiolano sveglio il serpente del canna per innaffiare ,
gocce, ingrassati dal desiderio di gravità ,
ha rotto aprire la tracce di siccità nel calcestruzzo

questa mattina , quel profumo mi lava , mi sveglia
come se mi siedo in quel giardino in quel caldo fine novembre
quel gatto si rifuga dalla pioggia sotto la piega del mie ginocchia ,
in quella pausa del mio recupero , sotto le girasole
nel silenzio , prima mi sentivo le ragioni riarsa
bevono vuoto un intero piatto di esigenze svegliati ,
e le persone erano andate e gli animali amati
erano tutti ancora in questo mondo ,
tutto in quest’ora più tranquilla prima dell’alba



2 comments on “NaPoWriMo • 7 April • Ten Gardens Ago / Dieci Orti Fa

  1. angela highstead
    April 10, 2014

    Is this the 2012 leap of faith? From now on I will try to read the Italian first. xxx

    • Kittykatmandoo
      April 10, 2014

      4 April is about the grande leap of 2012, though I think most poems I write are salted (or sugared) with it! Xxx

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