This language is forest fire, warning shot, amulet.
It hugs and kisses like a vanished grandmother,
rests its head on your shoulder, whispers
sweet somethings ‒ brisket simmering in the pot,
the crisp snap of a pickle, the epiglottis
shimmering in the throat. Each word possesses
its own dictionary, its own sea of commentary.
It can never be learned; it can only be remembered.
Marc Alan Di Martino is a Pushcart-nominated poet, translator and author of the collection Unburial (Kelsay, 2019). His work appears in Baltimore Review, Juke Joint, Rattle, Rust + Moth, Tinderbox, Valparaiso Poetry Review and many other journals and anthologies. His second collection, Still Life with City, will be published by Pski’s Porch in 2021. He lives in Italy.