Kith and Kin
Spaghetti intertwines.
Of our common thread,
I grew up thinking
Nat King Cole was Italian.
How couldn’t he be?
Felt like family.
Next seat, that close.
Maybe even
from same provincia.
Maybe from just next door.
Close as 10 Antietem,
from the same sunken road
near a supposed dead end.
Zio Tomasso talked tomatoes
back then with Mr. Cole.
And we learned all kinds
of education at school.
And songs to sing and
spring came to being.
And see now the fog’s smoke
clears and the wars end and
we can still unify the past
with the present and
see the us and
the them and
the world
as one.
Sharing Sunday spaghetti.
Bio:
Joe Bisicchia writes of our shared dynamic. An Honorable Mention recipient for the Fernando Rielo XXXII World Prize for Mystical Poetry, his works have appeared in numerous publications. His website is www.JoeBisicchia.com
OVUNQUE SIAMO 