from One Hundred Quatrains

By Patrizia Valduga Patrizia Valduga

Translated By Geoffrey Brock


By now you know: I need the words.
You'll learn to give me what I seek.
It's my sick mind, it feeds on words.
I'm begging you, for God's sake: speak!


Hurry, pin my wrists in place,
nail me to your bed like Christ . . .
comfort me, caress my face . . .
fuck me when I expect it least.


From nerves veins valves ventricles
from tendons cartilage nerves ducts
from follicles nerves ribs clavicles . . .
from every pore my soul erupts.


You liked that? you actually came?
but how? Explain to me. But why?
If you got off on that, you're doomed.
A charge I can't and don't deny.


Why is even pleasure a kind of chore?
Why is what sense I have left leaving me?
Come on, explain. Who do you take me for,
your personal doctor of philosophy?

Source: Poetry (December 2007).


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

December 2007
 Patrizia  Valduga


Patrizia Valduga's latest collection, published by Einaudi, is Prima Antologia.

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Poems by Patrizia Valduga

Poem Categorization

SUBJECT Gender & Sexuality, Relationships, Social Commentaries, Men & Women

Poetic Terms Rhymed Stanza

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Originally appeared in Poetry magazine.

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