Spring cleaning — Sieve Bonaiuti


ISSUE VII: CONFESSIONS

Medium: Poetry

Instagram: @mohnwald



Sometimes, between my things,

Between pages filled with old, bad sketches

and mugs with mold proudly prospering on the sides


Between pens without ink, which I’m too attached to to throw away,

between some hazelnuts I put into my pockets the last time I went to England

Smuggled through the airport, and then lost in the shipwreck of my room


Between your love declaration

which I religiously keep next to my bed

and a few earrings I have been searching for for years


In all this mess of me,

Sometimes I find big and dark eyes, like those of Hera,

Deep wells of rainwater,


I push the rest to the side, and carefully take them in my hands,

feeling like crying for a dream,

for entire centuries.


But, you see, sadly I cannot juggle,

and two eyeballs are quite heavy things to hold in a palm,

So I hide them under my bed again,

and forget until next time.



Cover image: Issachar Ber Ryback



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