They never find him,
his body thrown in a mass grave,
I don't know, I was never asked.
Tonight I fry la torta di polenta, the cake of bones,
tomorrow we will have minestra di niente, soup of nothing.
And I think of my mother telling me
about the bitterness of greens
and what they bring to your life:
rapini
cicoria
She opens my mouth
and shoves those bitter greens in,
"swallow all of it," she says,
"It will make you a bitter woman."
Carmela Delia Lanza