IX
Last night again I saw the chest of drawers, the oldest, from my grandmother's wedding, my mother and her sisters' youth, my childhood. There it stood with its high mirror, its baskets of paper roses.
And then the white chick--almost a dove--flew from the trees to eat rice from my hands. She felt so real to me that I was going to kiss her.
But then, everything burst into flames and disappeared. God stows his things away safely.
Marosa di Giorgio, trans. Jeannine Marie Pitas
(Ugly Duckling, 2010)
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