Alissa Sammarco
Alissa Sammarco writes and practices law in Cincinnati, Ohio. She uses sharp imagery which is drawn from the oceans and forests where she has lived to capture moments in verse. Her po-ems make monuments of our lives with family, lovers, children and friends. They have appeared in Sheila-Na-Gig, Black Moon Magazine, Quiet Diamonds, The Main Street Rag, Stone Canoe, VIA: Voices in Italian Americana, Pine Mountain Sand & Gravel, Evening Street Review, Change Seven and elsewhere. She is the author of 4 chapbooks, Beyond the Dawn, I See Them Now, Moon Landing Day, and Cupcake Day. www.AlissaSammarco.com.
On The Sacred Farm
I planted seeds to grow
giant sunflowers with faces
turned toward the sun,
brown eyes framed with yellow,
host to honeybees and gold finch
in autumn when their heads
are heavy with promise.
I planted seeds to send
tendrils across the garden,
where squash blossoms kiss
under broad leaves that shelter
their pregnant bellies boasting
zucchini and pumpkin and cucumber.
I poured water on newborn heads,
breathed in deep the smell
of scalp and fingers and toes
and fat baby belly rising
and falling softly in sleep.
Oh, how I wished to feel
dark earth between my toes
and the sound of laughter that
rises as I walk, stepping with
constant rhythmic vibrations,
symbiotic and sympathetic.
It must be a trick of the senses
that makes me believe that I grew anything.
The smell of the earth is buried as deep
as the smell of my newborn’s head
and the rhythm of his breathing
tucked into the crook of my arm.
