Vanzetti’s Fish Cart di Justin Vitiello – Archivio Nat Scammacca

Vanzetti’s Fish Cart di Justin Vitiello – Archivio Nat Scammacca

  1. all angels are created equal

I

Ethel was fat that’s why she was jolly (or maybe she was jolly so she was fat)

she came on over

one day I was sick (my mother worn thin around a watermelon belly told me a friend

was coming in to help)

I heard from a room hung

thick with cough

a mustard plaster laugh clomp-clomp up the stairs heave at the top (Statue of Liberty

steamer?)–bump-

bud-dey-ump-bump:

“nobody home”– in burst her head: a great black sun

II

sucking broom

a dance of dust

fingertips lobes of sweat and mop,

cutting steam kettle fogs (the antiseptic dusk of endless convalescence)

from my pillow hold I spied (she didnt mind the stare) cobras and mongeese and tomahawks banj oes and bongos and Uncle Remus blues and shined shoes and Aunt Jemima

when she chugged out (I hadnt spoken once)

I was still figuring

what medicine she took

to drown my taste

summer rain

 

 Poesia Senza Nome

I bambini si fidano di lui: gli

vogliono bene

sanno che, si vinca o no al bigliardino,

un gelato spunterà di sicuro prima che si

vada a letto e affamati o feriti

graviteranno intorno alla cucina dove lui

improvvisa sollievo per tutte le pene

salvaguardando la dignità di tutti …

“Giustino, come mai

solo i bambini possono piangere?

perchè solo i bambini

e qualche amico non tradisce?

perchè ci mettono le corna le donne,

ci fanno digrignare e azzannare

ma poi vogliono pagliacci che cercano

di piangere per farle ridere?

cosa capita quando diventiamo

uomini e donne?

perchè c’innamoriamo sempre

per poi cadere in disamore?

tu che sei filosofo, dimmi

di che pasta

la vita è fatta?”

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