The Roman Woman

Being a stalker
Of Roman streets
With no intention
To be anything
But an object
Fulfilling the picture
At the end
Of my ocular
Tunnel

She is a
Construction
Sporting my
Egotism
Happily unaware
Of my consistent stare
Thereby cosily
Creating her own freedom
Outside vulgar existence

Maybe tending
Her customers
From behind a
Pharmacist´s counter
Somewhere down the Corso
Dressed in white gown
In order to utterly
Lock me up behind
The prison bars of my eyes

Or
Smartly dressed
And fragrantly
(nose entering scene)
Crossing Piazza Repubblica
In between traffic lights
Lightly touching my
By now
Shivering thigh





It is my privilege
To create
The Roman woman
(who probably was born
in Trieste or Padua)
In my picture
To make the whole thing
Flow diligently
Smoothly and stimulantly

Apologies aside
The Roman woman
Is not my woman
She is the feminine
Wonder belonging to
Rome itself
Only let out of the bag
Like the cat
When called for

Reluctantly
Displaying her shadowy armpit
(if you are lucky)
Her subnavel continent
Her breasts of fire
With nipples pointing
At Venus and Jupiter
Scooping the Universe
For a helping of eyes and tongues



Erik Frisch

Translated by Nail Chiodo