The only way to talk about it is
not to talk about it.
It’s hard to cut straight
when there are so many
frayed edges –
I never got a ruler,
a light, a leather
rope – save me – in prayers
of Latin, in the Italian of my skin,
in the French of my youth,
in the English of my birth –
the words I can read underwater,
without hesitation
between syllables or sentences
fluid with punctuation
when there can be no silence
to slip in my teeth, out
to their tongues – sing this,
that which I have always
questioned, chin sunk in
the ground, eyes filling from
waiting – hands reaching for
a needle to sew trust back
inside where she held me
once, before or after, maybe
sucking from muscle, from rhythm,
extracting will –
Is this the version you know?
Britt Gambino lives in New York, NY, at the end of the universe (aka Washington Heights) where she is a current MFA candidate at the New School. Her work has appeared or is forthcoming in anderbo.com, DecomP, Xenith, The Battered Suitcase, Moon Milk Review, The Arava Review, and vox poetica. Her poem, "Isosceles" was recently nominated by DecomP for Sundress's Best of the Net 2010 anthology. To read some of Britt’s ramblings, visit her blog here: gritsforyou.wordpress.com