ODE TO THE OLIVE
I could search for you before
written language, the gift
of oil, heat, food, elixirs,
or write the line, Your trees
were God’s first temples. But I
need right now to fish
you from this bowl,
your brine and smooth
to teach my mouth. I like
to curl my tongue around
each lozenge, grass
and pepper. Though inside
may be almond or pimento,
what I’m after is Earth,
this wondrous planet
tucked into the cheek.
Here, I’m closer to my great
grandfather’s grove, my great
grandmother’s longing.
I turn to find someone
hauling salt, slicing celery
and lemon, pouring,
then storing jars to cure,
because he knows
it’s never too much
work. I would
gather for him
twigs, leathery, lance-
shaped leaves, some
promise like the woods
with their own kind
of love, expectant,
like green eyes
to the sun or a lid
removed. I’ve been
waiting for this
slow, steady,
soft warmth.
LET SOMEONE CALL YOU, “GIRL WHO WENT TO WOODSTOCK THEN LEFT EARLY TO VISIT HER ITALIAN GRANDMOTHER”
I’d go for barely-there
sandals, flared jeans, lace
crop top or pale fringed
bikini top, definitely
a pendant necklace. After all,
Jimi Hendrix, Janis Joplin,
and Santana in a cow pasture
have their appeal. No doubt,
I’d sway on the shoulders
of some faceless man, cigarette
in my bangled hand; but if I
were twenty, thinking I was
meant for something greater,
I imagine I’d turn up my nose
to psychedelic drugs and sex—
and let’s be honest—probably would
not have lasted past the first day
when they ran out of food.
With the Beatles on the precipice
of breaking up, the clouds
in the distance encroaching
on the counterculture,
forgive me, I’d crave
perfume, marinara, fennel
sausages. There’d be some
famous photo of me holding
a bottle, walking across the green
carpet of my grandmother’s living
room, seeking solace— fearing chaos
from the peace and sporadic rain.
Janine Certo is the author of four poetry books, including O Body of Bliss, winner of the Longleaf Poetry Prize (2023); and Elixir, winner of both the New American Poetry Prize and the Lauria/Frasca Poetry Prize (New American Press and Bordighera Press, 2021). She is an associate professor at Michigan State University and a poetry editor at Italian Americana. Visit her at janinecertopoet.com.
OVUNQUE SIAMO 