Fiamma Curti is a second-year student from Italy studying English Literature with Creative Writing and Practice.
TONIGHT
Tonight,
so many things happened.
Not to me,
I was home
eating Chinese
and watching tv.
But for the first time
the baby downstairs
slept for six hours.
His parents
have never felt
so grateful.
The eight-year old upstairs
Is reading Harry Potter.
She just found out
magic
is at her fingerprints.
Someone went on their first date,
they kissed in the streets,
right under my balcony.
They were so excited
they both did a happy-dance
when they thought
the other one
wasn’t looking.
A young couple
is making love
for the fourth time
in a row.
A couple of floors below,
An old couple
is eating together
for the fourteenth-thousand-time
in a row.
Tomorrow morning,
they’ll wake up
a bit more in love
than they were
tonight.
POEM ON A PLANE
City streets, city lights, city sounds
they’ll drill a hole through your soul
tie a rope around it and tell you:
‘Go and explore.’
So you’ll run out the door,
you’ll run around the world,
you’ll run in a new life
you didn’t know of before.
But you’ll run out of rope.
You’ll feel called back
by the streets that you left,
that now feel like home
like they have never before.
And you’ll know,
once and for all,
that you’ll always
be back when you’re gone.
A DAY FOR POETRY
Some days are so full of emotions,
all I want to do
is put them into verses.
On those days
the world seems
lighter.
The weight is lifted off,
The darkness sent away.
Everything is a multicolour-madness.
But verses are late.
They get stuck in the traffic
of everything happening inside me.
So I bottle it up.
Put it on a shelf.
When the world goes back
to a blank sheet of paper,
I open it up.
The colours come out,
splashes of lighting,
forming verses on the page.
