Pill Box with Image of Padre Pio

And the blank becomes a hurry. The alternative is trying d’appoggiare il piede per terra. They say evacuate to sound formal. When my shin is hot, I say “scotta!” I want to remember something that goes beyond these walls. A broken ankle is a good premise for a play - you have an excuse to never change the sets. Enter Franco with water basin and croissants. Once you start telling a story, there isn’t anywhere to stop. The days that followed were pretty much the same. Until I woke up breaking out of a rock.

Murano Glass Jewelry

It was all such an initial discovery and then progression. Tell me anything to start from. If not rosemary and salt, maybe minnows. Hard to be gripped by anthologies, only the fingers, not the arms. I’m getting better and better at tilting my wrist to write sdraiata. My first one revealed a moon and stars encircled.

Venetian carnival masks

Counting backwards nine to think which state my sister is flying over. My mother noted punk-rock, thin ties, and physical fitness in the book where she also kept the dried-up raisin of my umbilical cord. When speaking a foreign language, there is the possibility of being another person. Everyone had so much nervous energy, and I absorbed it at least until I started knitting. The drying rack was skillfully arranged to drip down into the sink. They painted stars and swirls around my eyes. Wondered if I would be more shocked under different circumstances. How to slap the arms down in the water. My skin. The ankle bone beginning to reappear.

Flag of the Winning Contrada of the Palio di Siena

Polenta for lunch, accompanied by stories of how they ate polenta in Pianello. Corrects the way I pronounce double ‘r’s. Terra. Ferro. I search a walled cemetery for foreign-sounding names. Afterwards, among the flotsam and jetsam. To chase down things che mi colpiscono, more unexpected. But each door to the cortile let slam shut, sounds like him coming home.

Hand-painted ceramics

The streets of Napoli are full of built-up trash. I lie languorous: “nude with cast up to knee.” One can smell Faenza from the train without needing to look up. I memorized the order. I hopped around and barely nibbled on things and read dated “New Yorkers,” increasingly anxious as the day went on. His cousin to San Francisco to do an MBA and ended up with two shops in malls and a husband. When pressed, I estimated that I had read either two or three thousand books, maybe. All of the religious paintings featured strange faces : a Madonna with an exposed breast set unnaturally high. My mother acts as if my prolific kept correspondence is a curse on any possible descendents. My solitary activities hinge on the mention of dogs or cats or car doors. A return. But the sun doesn’t really get into the kitchen at this time of day. Delineating and documenting. I might sleep better.