Poetry

Asleep No More

by Federica Santini

Buried deep you sleep
under the gleaming asphalt
of every downtown,
within pots and casseroles
of tears held back at dinner,
in the purple mornings,
face gray, eye swollen
behind each pained smile
locked in your wasted time.

Buried deep with pleated
skin, your knotted limbs,
hair of chalked wheat,
you are in the coffee pots
as rumbling dawn breaks
under every bus station
when you look at the shadows.
Draw your coat a bit closer
at street corners of catcalls,
cemeteries of lies in bars
at the bottom of drinks,
unwanted children and words.

Buried deep you sleep
and have slept very long.

Wake, woman, wake.

Appeared in Issue Spring '20