Multiple Temperatures
I go from blazing embers to freezing lows.
The sea which is my body moulds itself as clay
And all the elasticity of my skin seems confused.
About to break or liquify or dissolve
Because I’m never in one piece, never completely whole.
I’m a walking fever, bringing with me every season at once.
You could see autumn in my auburn hair,
You could see winter on the tip of my purplish fingers.
Summer comes with the heat of my passions, how I want
To do everything at the same time.
How I believe myself to own the sunlight
And the ability to keep it aflame for years.
Spring is the shy easiness that rarely happens.
Spring would be when I’m sound asleep, wanting nothing,
Dreaming of everything but at a safe distance.
I wanted a better outline.
To be certain people at the right times.
To be exclamation points throughout history and not
Just exploited commas that are never sure about where to land,
Nor if they really matter.
Do people really pause and breathe for a moment for me?
Do their tongues reach the top of their mouths before they
Jump to the following page, and the following name, the following poem,
The following temperature, the following season?
Maybe that’s why I want so badly to be everything, altogether.
To be silent and loud and monochrome and colourful
Before the next stanza reaches me.
That is why I reach every high and every low, never stabilizing
Or becoming something concise.
Balanced by the indeterminable.
I rejoice in the inadequacy of being multiple things.
Of seeing thousands of stars atop of my heart
Beating and exploding and recreating the world,
Not knowing who I’ll wake up to be,
Nor which degree my new body will be at,
But expecting to set fire on everything I place my hands,
Only to leave with a frosty twist of events.
© 2019, Giulia de Gregorio Listo. All Rights Reserved
