Poetry by Giovanni Mangiante

           ​Peter Organisciak CC



it runs like blood

the stains on the table; the mold on the curtains;
an empty fridge; a broken radio; 
an old vinyl snapped in half.

the blood-rushing stupor, the nail-biting daze
of falling in love with the wrong person.

wet paper; smudged words and broken bottles.

the things you didn’t mean but said anyway;
the screaming memories of a book in flames.

a squeezed mosquito in-between your palms;
the stomach acid at the back of your throat;
the relatives that no longer care;
the snakebite of the one you loved.

the danger and the beauty of a city 
fire-swallowed in absolute riot;
the hair-pulling hammering inside your chest
cracking your ribcage.

That is poetry. That is writing. That is what it is: 
                  wanting the world from an empty room.


​

Giovanni Mangiante is a poet from Lima, Peru. He has work published in Heroin Love Songs, Rat's Ass Review, Three Rooms Press, Fearsome Critters, The Raven Review, Cajun Mutt Press, Crêpe & Penn, Open Minds Quarterly, and more. He has upcoming work in Newington Blue Press. In writing, he found a way to cope with BPD.

---