person Anna Scotti, two poems
Anna Scotti’s work appears occasionally in The New Yorker and other literary magazines. She was awarded the Mark Fischer Poetry Prize last year, and has also received the Pocataligo Poetry Prize, the AROHO Prize for short fiction, and other honors. Please visit http://www.annakscotti for more.
~The following poems originally appeared in The Comstock Review.~
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TWELVE
So, there you are, cross-legged, patient fingers
working tangles from the silky plume of the dog’s tail,
mouth set in a stern love line exactly
like my grandmother’s. You’ve already learned that love
is mostly duty: gathering worms after every rainfall, laying
countless broken birds to rest in tissued boxes,
grim as any village preacher. You’ve dirt-
rimmed nails, scabbed knees – yet the new teacher’s
eyes can’t quite meet mine. Don’t let all that beauty
confuse you: there will be a boy who does not
love you, then a man. And someday…
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