Atterrando: Poems

They never find him,

his body thrown in a mass grave,

I don't know, I was never asked.

Tonight I fry la torta di polenta, the cake of bones,

tomorrow we will have minestra di niente, soup of nothing.

And I think of my mother telling me

about the bitterness of greens

and what they bring to your life:

rapini

cicoria

She opens my mouth

and shoves those bitter greens in,

"swallow all of it," she says,

"It will make you a bitter woman."

Carmela Delia Lanza