The island letter

Wait, was that a stone avalanche,

or just some hearts broken?
I don’t want to know.

In the stone there are hearts, empty

is the sky without it, the island serves
as a gathering point of
men, slingshot hunting birds.

The island serves for fire, somebody

starts it, the demons are dancing, someone
won’t behave so he dances with the
demons, the devil is benevolently
glancing at him.

Someone knows in which way the two

armies collide, so the rocks break
under the feet
the rectangular rock.

Let’s say that this island is

in the sea that has no boundaries
someone sees it in the middle of the world
someone knows it as a glimpse,
to someone
it brought death.

I write to you tonight, because

the air here is saturated with pines, there’s no
distant voices, only the chosen ones
breathe. I write to you tonight,
because where I fell
I could be an owner, a guest and
a prince (they wanted to pronounce me as one,
I didn’t let them because I don’t have a flag).

I write to you tonight to send me

a flag, if it’s possible. If not,
there’s this one,
four bloody fingers and a shield.