“I invented a child”, thus opens the poem extracted from Monica Aasprong's “The invented child” - a text in which narration and rhytm seem to emerge from a folktale, a nursery rhyme, a dirge. The poet has the capacity to unite action and image, in her verses she unravels figures only apparently reassuring but that in actuality enclose the old viciousness of living. Fire, ice, light, birds and animals all come to life incarnating symbols bigger than themselves. They accompany the reader through an atmosphere that slowly fills the poetry with that knowledge that doesn't know for sure, but tries repeatedly to hold onto the whys of existence. To invent a child, as if to say that poetry, just like life itself, requires the sudden risk of games, the responsibility of acting. Therefore invention, not creation, to get to that same paradox of the poetic act that, in creating its profound fetishes and its allusions can also say : it’s not so easy, / I say, / to breed a face. A face that has always been not just a presence but a mirror that reflects an image the reality of which is elsewhere.
written by Wolfango Testoni