It is a room, the poetry of Letizia Dimartino. We settle, turn away the curtain to see what the weather is outside, take a glass of water, it is empty. And we stand at the window, waiting. Who are we readers to enter, or that "you" stranger who changes every time, it does not matter because the infinite dialogue is to everyone. Waiting is not only pain, it is almost a condition to be desired. "If I saw you / if you saw me / in the unfolding of the days': is not lost as long as we wait to know each other. From the hoped-for union of the "we" of the first anthology to "You" farther and farther away, it is a surrender to the passage of time, until "Setting" does not open angrily to life. A life of papier-mâché, played in one theater, but it is all we have. And in retrospect, what has happened in the meantime. The poetry of Letizia Dimartino comes to its fulfillment, telling in a quiet apparent that alternate thousand faces and a thousand spaces throughout the life of an individual, man or woman. And so, while we wait for "the window backgrounds / crossing the road / finally the rooms and move the furniture," we learn that "everything has remained in its place / and we lived so / we were not, simply." And there is no more true epilogue.

Reviews

Review on Retroguardia 2.0 blog - January 16th 2014