LindaAnn Lo Schiavo

Experiencing pizzichilli young — —
All Neapolitan adults intent
On giving children sharp affection: kissed
With possibility of pain required — —
I learned to squirm, becoming fruit, firm, ripe,
And ready to be pinched on shameless buds
Called cheeks. Italians like operatic
Intensity: emotions leaving marks,
Or kisses raining fierce as cockpit bombs,
Assaults kids try escaping yet endure — —
Young hearts confused from then, torn, victimized.

When do I live for opportunities
Like this? When do I duck? Always unsure,
Tattooed by pizzichilli, mind and soul
Re-enter fate's familiar feast of pain,
Know compromised enjoyment must be love.