from One Hundred Quatrains

By Patrizia Valduga Patrizia Valduga

Translated By Geoffrey Brock

                         8

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!

                         17

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.

                         45

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

                         47

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.

                         71

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).

MORE FROM THIS ISSUE

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

December 2007
 Patrizia  Valduga

Biography

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

Continue reading this biography

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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