That which remains of love Poem by Antonella Anedda

There was much in that dawn, in that hotel, in the paper
that revealed the hard water of the wall and ceiling.
Everything, perhaps the meaning of the world
was in her sob
with the back of her neck banging against the bed
and in the gesture of him
wrapping her breasts in the sheet.

Outside the day grew
unnatural, like the metal stem of the lamp
long shaken with rage
when the other's body was more alone.