Aliens

for Luigi Vendittelli

      

I come from another galaxy,

 wear electric flesh that negotiates air, learns water: 

When I say “I” don’t imagine a face, or a name, don’t imagine something 

temporary or separate, oh and btw, the craft are real, especially when spotted hovering over 

nuclear installations, the small, ageless greys with big black unblinking eyes are too, and 

the warnings in melting glaciers, parched soil, bleached coral — a babble 

of languages you failed to comprehend — no, you needed 

visitations, odd probings and gov't conspiracies, 

truth and beauty were never enough.