by Antonella Anedda

Is the letter of felicity, of earthly joys, of the breath’s flight from the lips, its fading; it’s the faith of flowers that fold when the sun sets, but it’s also the letter of the lightning flash, of the flame that, flickering, cleaves the dark.

                ‘It’s freezing’ we say, and the f doubles in the same breath that feeds the fire.


Translated from Italian by Jamie McKendrick