Stiff bent fingers like roots of trees,
disfigured and bent to sunlight,
clasp gently to the pine box soon to
burn up and in the end,
your skin is still thin like slices of paper,
your thick, wormy veins travel through
soil like flesh, sunspots like kisses
or lovers names or history span the range
from fingertip to toe,
gold rings like auburn leaves and diamonds
like raindrops on winter days, nails like
petals and knots like knuckles,
roses like knocks on wood,
and kisses like knowing what you do now,
doveri farla finita
così possiamo essere completi.