Fast-Identität | a poem

white shirts hang

below the ceiling


above my head

like anonymous ghosts

clean and repentant


I think of the eye

that observes me

from inside the old nameless wood


the faces that disappear

around the corner

into a room

that I don’t want to enter anymore


and I imitate your voice

because you’re still here


I say what I think you’d say

but it’s always the old

always the same

always the known


and yet you speak in dreams

wandering across the worlds

in and out of bodies

you climb out of your death

and come back to life

within my silhouette

My own drawing © Laura Gentile 2022 | Instagram: croque_melpomene

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