God is with me, in my hotel room.
The tap is dripping, burn marks
made by ashes on the bedcover
and the carpet.
God closes the window
but the icy wind comes in.
The lamp has twenty candles,
God is trying to shed light
with himself, but the effect
is depressing.
‘Go on, give it up,
I don’t believe you,’
I try to defend myself.
God pulls out the packet
and lights up two. I take a drag,
but the smoke is cold.
God picks something out
of his incisors with the nail
of his little finger.
‘Did you eat well?’
he asks. I show him the needle
and shake my head, ‘You’re stubborn’
I say. He smiles,
lies down and in two seconds
is fast asleep.
His ash falls
but makes no holes on the cover.
‘You see, you see?’
I’d like to point out.
But I don’t want to disappoint him now,
he’ll think of it on his own when
he realizes
that men do not exist.
Franco Foschi was born in Bologna. A paediatrician by profession, he has published the novel Niente è come appare (Hobby&Work1998), the collection Beltenebros (Mobydick 1998, 'Naville' Prize), the poems in Il re dei ragni (Mobydick 2000, preface by Stefano Benni) and in H (Hospital) (Mobydick 2002), the children’s book Maria e le pistole limate (E.Elle 2000), his most recent latest novel Un inverno dispari (Mobydick, written together with Guido Leotta) and the short-story collection Piccole morti senza importanza (Todaro).