by Federica Santini
dead word-children of mine
singing yourselves a muddled
lullaby of crows and berries
inside your veiled cradle:
listen to the incoming rain
nod your small heads
in time with the pattern.
muddled word-children:
awake to this forest of sounds
know your wind and eat it
untangle the long leaf-braid
of wild clauses dispersed and
faintly poisoned with strawberries.
Born in Siena, Italy, Federica Santini lives in Atlanta, Georgia and teaches in the Italian Studies and Gender and Women’s Studies programs at Kennesaw State University. A literary critic, poet, and translator, her work has appeared in over twenty journals in North America and Europe, including Autografo, The Ocotillo Review, JIT, il verri, and Snapdragon among others.