Two Poems: Alex Gambacorta
The San Massimo Cures
Salt on my bug bites takes away the itch.You dipped your pointer finger in the water.You dipped your pointer finger in the salt.
Crushed the garlic clove in your arthritic hands—forced me to smell its sharpness.The smell you said, would clear me out.
You put too much honey in my tea,and you would say, no one can take care of you but yourself.I laid my head on your shoulder.
You worried I would catch a cold,as if I could grab the thing out of thin air. The outside bite of wind might suddenly make my nose run,and my chest tight.
Wet hair might cause my sickness,you told me. Covered me in your scarf,tied the knot under my small chin.This damn thing. I kept it on while you watched me through your window,walking home.
And I wante...