Poetess and actress, the theater becomes in her input a personal and recognizable poetic search, on the verse to be considered in the voice, in the rhythm, as the necessity to give body and breath to every word, that, just like as a primeval rhapsody, gives a particular pulse to poems, towards of alliteration and anaphora. A very sensorial experience, where, while we listen her, not only our ears, but our eyes, our skin is captured by the mantra of rhythmical images.

(citazione)

The Flower with the Hands
Of voices behind glass.
Of striped irises.
Or of touching, only, the flower with the hands.
Undressed hips, for eating,
fingers, for eating, for counting,
pressed, a little only, on the lips.
Breaking the word off the unsaid.
Breaking and widening, laughing and violently thundering.
Forgetfulness engraved upon the skin
in the cavity between the shoulders and the wings.
You push, slowly, towards the edge.
You come, slowly, towards the reeling edge.
You shiver, slowly, you reel atop the edge.
You shine and overflow, slowly.
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