3 Poems by Guido Cavalcanti
(converted by Peter Hughes)
Vedete ch’i’ son un che vo piangendo
I polish off the last of her peach squash &
acknowledge the sounds of some of her names
deep in my throat or whatever it’s called towards
these short accommodations
from one periphery to another shoulder to
shoulder with drivers of trucks & distant relations
on the school run forging indispensable
connections I hold my breath in anticipation of
that little movement of her tongue I hold her
breath & rearrange it in this awkward new attempt
at integration
there used to be a set of plans & risk assessment
procedures with insurance policies but I’ve
abandoned certain prototypes & modes of thought
forever following this latest transformation of the
city & her responsiveness to what the fuck is
happening she comes with new supplies of juice &
shuts my mouth
Poi che di doglia cor conven ch’i’porti
she reposed behind me with such posture
accomplished cellist that she was she drew a sword
across & deep into my throat my heavy head
relaxed onto her lap & welcome to the world of
Baroque art Mr Cavalcanty welcome to the cabaret
of bodily effusions & horrified stares towards the
next stage where I knock up this nativity set in
which the neighbours & local fauna are encouraged
to pause & meditate upon my vaguely impotent
feelings while we ignore my threads in your velcro
your finer hairs still stuck between my teeth
Perché non fuoro a me gli occhi dispenti
sending coded postcards to my lady of awkward
compartmentalisations now that her pole-dancing
days are over & her interest in art has begun here’s
one of me & S. Sebastian & here’s one of my cock in
the bocca della verità & this is the end of yet
another phase of hopelessness not that it hasn’t
had its miracles its commas of starlight in the wine
glass the morning moving down her naked back
her fists full of my ordinary hair I devote the rest of
my life to these
bucatini all’amatriciana