Son and father
Son is happy when Father plays with him
He’s not afraid of darkness; he wonders if Father is
His tiny hand clung to Father’s huge forefinger
They walk towards his room, wherever it may be
But Father’s sitting, while he should kneel on the floor
He would only focus on what he is concerned of
Bored, Son leaves, walks out of his room
He does not have to turn the light off: Father is still there
He’ll be back
Hell, be back
«Beautiful Mother
Kiss me welcome home
Hug me with arms and legs, and call
“Hey, Son, Father’s home”»
And Son shivers
Watching Father as he comes
While he’s still playing with Father
In his room
Son drives the car backwards out of the garage
Looking in the rearview mirror, like Father does
Will she wait for him on top of that hill?
More beautiful and graceful than Mother she will be
The road is steep and he can barely see
Turn after turn, like Father would, he climbs
Leaving all behind was never taken into account
He wonders if he will remember, when he comes back
He finds a body
Rotting on the lawn
Greener than ever
Around his shiny new home
And he shivers
Looking at the corpse
Features unrecognizable
It’s wearing Mother’s clothes
Fabio Scagliola,