The End (An Agenda)

Construction of a four-dimensional tetrahedron. From What is Mathematics?, by H. Robbins, 1941. Illustration by R. Courant

by Alessandro De Francesco

in this n-dimensional space
i could spy on myself from the cracks
while going back and forth
from the summer to the wardrobe
from the night to the parking lot

but something filters in through the half-closed shutters
becomes an event        enunciation

we stay without explanation
like parallel curves on the back of a solid

growing older she enters the garden
always repeats certain phrases
the elevator to be redone
the neighbor’s music
the steps        the pavement
furls
like the leaves of a fern when touched
she is framed from behind while
she moves rocking
she covers distances slowly

a bag overflows from the wardrobe
something stirs inside

but then the suitcase comes open
not even by my hand
it’s the objects that are starting to filter out
the little red haired monster watches idling
the appointments written
on one of your agendas two years old
still seem urgent
each letter holds itself upright
on the page with flourishes and arabesques
each angle has its own geography

i’m trying to describe
the path the fingers trace
on the carpet
the zipper takes the opposite route

we are suspended on the stairs
above the water
in the center is the summer seen from above
the darkness of the city
passes from one headlight to the next

the surfaces of our arms cohere
and are shiny underneath
the blinking of a sign

each pore is an open expanse
the body dreams the hair
gives form to the possible

some daring swimmers
were throwing themselves into the seine
they swam upstream
up to the first quay

look there could exist             behind the screen
a room
where even when the lamp is out
and the curtains drawn

even when the suitcase wasn’t closed

everything seemed red
everything calm

Poem originally published at Continent |

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About the Author:

Alessandro De Francesco is an Italian poet, theoretician and sound artist based in Paris, France.