There are goats up there Poem by Roberto Amato

There are goats up there
as always in place of the doves.
There are noises that keep the world awake.
There I am and I'm moving
I'm spinning like a mill
and I am tired of being tired
and of saying it to every single thing I encounter.

My mother can't see me.
My father would like to crop my hair randomly
because as a young man he wanted to be a barber.
I too
wanted to be a barber
but I never told anyone.
There
it was the silence that ruined my life
and also that of others.
It was the silence that ruined all our lives.

And now?
Now that they are all dead we'll have to assign each of them his own dialogue.

Translation: Matilda Colarossi