FOR MY DAUGHTER By Antonella Anedda I love her fierceness when she fights me, shouting Not fair! Her eyes slitting like shutters in cities by the sea. Her life is rife with bonfires—seen and unseen— fires that burn through the turning years bringing her to life again, and again, in a miracle of smoke. This heat gives her a sense of forgiveness—or so I imagine— she kisses my back, capriciously, when I scold her.....& poet continues ... .....( Maybe she recalls the scalpel by which she was born. Easy, the mark of its slash in my skin. She rose from my belly as I slept. Were bound together by peace, no shrieks of pain, and my modesty. Were a canvas by Giovanni Bellini: a virgin and a sweet rabbit.)...
Posted on: Thu, 05 Dec 2013 05:20:24 +0000