poem || Anny Ballardini

Vogue:
                Black Boots

Good soft leather Italian Fashion
tubular, slightly pointed, solid
stable heels,
about 2-300 euros, like nothing.
That the price of your father’s imminent death,
a pair of Black shining boots
on fashion, Italian style,
a shimmer of satisfaction as if stolen from
the glittering windows of a central shop,
the act of purchase:
a frozen strawberry that melts
on your carefully glossed lips,
a sparkle of defiance in your eyes,
your eyebrows stiffed high.
The more I know you,
the more your remind me of the Nazis,
the much you said you despised them.
Pasolini would have chosen you
as his main character in Sodom and Gomorrah,
had he only met you.