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Mario Montalbetti

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Song for Margy

I

Empty milk bottles stand
in front of the doors. In

the backyard the grandmother tells her grandson
to see if the clothes are dry. The

mother sitting in a rocking-chair is
reading some poems. The

father died five years ago.
It’s 6.30 pm.


II

She offers me her hand she’s an
eighteen year-old prostitute with hair

that falls like rain.
She takes my arm.

A woman who grew up on the island
takes my arm she says

to me let’s go upstairs love I said
to her what’s your name she said

Margy.


III

She said to me don’t make a noise
my grandmother’s listening downstairs she opens

the window. The sun entered
with its last weak shafts of light:

the knife cuts the quince.


IV

Thank god her body
is a slow dawn thank

god that she moves
as the ocean moves.

Margy I told her why don’t
we close the window love

she said
don’t talk.

 

Translated by C.A. de Lomelliniand David Tipton

Page(s) 137-138

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