Born Backwards
written by: Ivan Pozzoni
Why do I keep writing?
B., like Bangladesh, was
sixteen years old, on the windowsill
of the balcony of a Milanese high school,
but sixteen years was not enough
For God to embrace her in his leap.
R., as Romania, was
thirteen years old, feeling a hundred,
and no angel
was flying by her side.
E., as Ecuador, was
thirteen years old, with no Genoa
reminded her of Quito,
in the solitude of her dress
off-brand, disintegrated.
C., like China, was
twelve years old, worn out quickly,
looking out on a balcony
with the desire not to see the world,
throwing herself into the vortex
of performance anxiety.
Their names are not difficult
to forget, they are names
– like me-born in reverse,
pressed against the glass
of the windows of life
jumping from the asphalt.
Nati Al Contrario
written by: Ivan Pozzoni
Perché continuo a scrivere?
B., come Bangladesh, aveva
sedici anni, sul davanzale
del balcone d’un liceo milanese,
ma sedici anni non erano abbastanza
affinché Dio l’abbracciasse nel suo salto.
R., come Romania, aveva
tredici anni, sentendosene cento,
e nessun angelo
volava al suo fianco.
E., come Ecuador, aveva
tredici anni, senza che Genova
le ricordasse Quito,
nella solitudine del suo vestire
fuor di marca, disintegrata.
C., come Cina, aveva
dodici anni, consumati in fretta,
affacciandosi a un balcone
col desiderio di non vedere il mondo,
buttandosi nel vortice
dell’ansia da rendimento.
I loro nomi non sono difficili
da dimenticare, sono nomi
– come me- nati al contrario,
schiacciati contro i vetri
delle finestre della vita
saltando dall’asfalto.
- Born Backwards - February 16, 2025
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