PHILOMENA AMALFITANO

A Passing

There was jasmine. My skin

nightingaled. I was absent

with my hands. I was

promiscuous,

even for a winged thing,

even with the myth stuck

in my throat. I could see

everything I wanted. I could

kneel into the sound of a gush,

even when it was strangled.

And now, I can’t close up.

My limbs were made for this,

but my flared body

is terrifying. Now I see

I came to bury it.

Philomena Amalfitano is a Sicilian writer based in New York. Her poetry appears or is forthcoming at Wild Roof Journal, American Poetry Journal, South Broadway Press, San Pedro River Review, Door Is A Jar Literary Magazine, and others. Connect with her on Instagram at PhilomenasPalette.