Buzzing by Flavia Testa
“The soul, which is spirit , cannot dwell in dust; it is carried along to dwell in blood.”
St. Augustine, The Confessions
My figment, my flirt, my false friend,
who do you favour? What’s…
No more gloomier monster … and scourge sent by the god’s wrath
ever mounted from the black stygian water–flying things
With young girl’s faces, but foul ooze below,
Talons for hands, pale famished nightmare mouths.
To the delicate girl who kept getting thinner—
thin as smoke from a cigarette,
a fault line in her green eyes.
To the young man
whose father slipped into his bed,
his fury trapped, a coiled cobra.
It was hot,…