Other People’s Poetry

by Luciano Iacobelli
I was a child with little to say
my thoughts and words added nothing
to a world already complete

but in grade school
I ate a piece of chocolate given to me by a kid
who laughed when I swallowed it
ha ha he said
I gave you poison
and you’re gonna die

I believed him
despite assurances from others
that the boy had played a trick

I trembled and waited for my blood to freeze
and even though it never did
I feared the death inside me
was delayed
a lazy snake
sleeping in the shade of my organs

and so a little piece of candy reversed me
drew my eyes in towards my own workings
made me wordy and thoughtful
with a longwinded hunt
for a scaly darkness
that might
at any moment

This poem was published as part of Luciano Iacobelli’s collection, Painting Circles (Quattro Books, 2012).  


Valves, clamps, tubes, washers.
At night especially,
I can feel them knocking
under my fingers. They are tender
and immediate as their burden,
their weaknesses are slight enough
to be disastrous: an incidental
whisper, the brush of brick
or bone; how many secrets
would come flooding forth?

Rocco de Giacomo

As appeared in Existere, Vol. 30, No. 2, 2011.