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Francesca Zagami
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Francesca Zagami says of herself:

"I feel as though I am that left sock that's disappeared from the dryer. You know you put it in, but somehow it manages to elude you and its match. It turns up years later, behind the dryer, mouldy and disgusting, long after you've disposed of the right one. It lay there all that time; wet, lonely, and scared. You shake your head at life's little mysteries, then into the garbage it will go ... forgotten and alone once more."


"Quarantined Metropolis"


You scream louder

Reducing voices in my head

To whispers of health invading my sickness.


Once recovered, twice relapsed

My graying skin, decaying mind

Infested with inbred parasites.


I'm stabbing at the snakes in my veins

You put venom in my blood

Masqueraded as medication.


Softly you caress the bruises

He so carefully left behind

Pretend to heal my severed mind.


Cover me in shame

Blindly lead me to holy land

The vulnerable prostitute you captured.


Extricate me from myself

Make me the prize you pilfered

The purple heart taken while beating.


I ramble on, word after empty word

Stone faced, you'll never understand

Picking locks on doors to empty houses.


Breathing in, Breathing out

Fever kissed my frost bit face

Damning you to silent vigilance.


The voices all fade away

I cry for their return

And beg for your exile.


Freedom dances on the edge

The key hangs from the chain

The chain secures me to this bed.


Whispering, Whimpering

My long forgotten treasures

Abandoned in your blackened sea.


Francesca Zagami
Copyright © 2001

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Copyright shall at all times remain vested in the Author. No part of the work shall be used, reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the Author's express written consent.

Copyright © 2001 K. Kianush, Art Arena