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Cancellare la storia

 


Mamma il corpo guardo che a me
hai donato: i piedi, mani, gambe,
Più non sono gli stessi - ma l'odore
Quello tuttora permane. Il tuo era,
Che ancora io porto in me, vivo.
Un odore antico, e che lontano
Sale. O mamma tu sai fin dove sale
L'odore, tuo? Perché lui fissa l'anima
Nella storia. La storia, che ha il sapore
Della mamma e del figlio, e che del tempo
Vive, e sempre ai luoghi si lega.

Ma un'antilope nera una madre
Ha diversa. La storia degl'odori 
Mischiar, satanica via. E le madri
Dall'anima slegare, è dannare,
Di un uomo la storia cancellare.



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