By Fabio Pusterla Fabio Pusterla

Translated By Geoffrey Brock

There were no alarms, no sentries: how could there have been? The doors were even standing open, and if we could do it again we wouldn't have it any other way. Defenseless—isn't that better? Unarmed?

Now we follow these strangers, who lead us along without loving us, without curiosity or comprehension, merely sufficiently convinced of our value, and perhaps intent on profiting from us. We will be passed from hand to hand in the markets of the great prairie. We will grow ever quieter, ever more condemned to wrap ourselves in the blind solitude of objects.   

Beneath the touch of countless rags, we will let the slightest traces of our origin be erased.

Source: Poetry (December 2007).


This poem originally appeared in the December 2007 issue of Poetry magazine

December 2007
 Fabio  Pusterla


Fabio Pusterla was born in Mendrisio, Switzerland, and lives and works between Lombardy and Lugano, where he teaches Italian language and literature in a high school. He is also an active translator and essayist, and was among the founders of the literary magazine Idra, published in Milan by Marcos y Marcos.

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Poems by Fabio Pusterla

Poem Categorization

SUBJECT Social Commentaries, History & Politics, War & Conflict, Money & Economics

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