Poetry Day, too
Grief
E detto l’ho perché doler ti debbia!
Inferno, xxiv, 151
Snow coming in parallel to the street,
a cab spinning its tires (a rising whine
like a domestic argument, and then
the words get said that never get forgot),
slush and backed-up runoff waters at each
corner, clogged buses smelling of wet wool . . .
The acrid anger of the homeless swells
like […]