Sometimes they fed me
pasta: spiraled fusilli
straight ahead spaghetti
gnocchi so heavy the earth
lowered itself and slowed its orbit
tagliatelle fattened with egg
rigatoni rigid with tradition
farfalle fluttering on the plate
the butter sauce preventing its escape
sometimes it was rotini
enemy of linguini
at times it was cavatelli or
cannelloni stuffed with curiosity,
spinach and questioning ricotta
all of it measured, stirred, poured
and stretched out from Bolzano
to Agrigento, each shape as sharp
as history taught at a sun
drenched table in Bologna
or underneath the stelle in
the rugged mountains of Sicilia
I was nourished by kind
and gentle hands
who taught me how
Italy shares
its food
and its heart

©

Leslie Dianne is a poet, novelist, screenwriter, playwright and performer whose work has been acclaimed internationally in places such as the Harrogate Fringe Festival in Great Britain, The International Arts Festival in Tuscany, Italy and at La Mama in New York City. Her stage plays have been produced in NYC at The American Theater of Actors, The Raw Space, The Puerto Rican Traveling Theater and The Lamb’s Theater. She holds a BA in French Literature from CUNY and her poems have appeared in The Lake, Ghost City Review, The Literary Yard, About Place Journal and Kairos andare forthcoming in Hawai’i Review. Her poetry was recently nominated for a Pushcart Prize.