In The Basement
By Roberto Baronti Marchiò Translated By Gabriele Poole
I discover in the basement
the objects left years ago,
stored away as reminders.
The film ticket,
the map of London,
the sunglasses.
The memos, the notes
written hastily
to prevent them escaping
from one with my
own handwriting.
They were supposed to tell me something
but now they tell me nothing.
A wall of imprints
yellowed, torn, rusted.
A savana of objects and souvenirs.
They too have aged
and like me
have no memory.
But I continue to follow myself
along the steep paths
of distant memories
and in this velodrome
I chase a self
that is always in front of me
and see him in the distance
only from behind.
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